Pain and Pleasure Read online

  “Over here.”

  I pulled away from him, leading the way to a set of plastic swing doors I’d seen workers breezing in and out of, or getting stuck with those cages, the wheels snagging on the jambs. I glanced left and right, then pushed one of the doors open. The large area that greeted me was bland—gray floor, gray walls, gray ceiling. The only breaks in color were the glint of the stocked silver cages beneath the harsh strip lighting and the beige of the cardboard boxes they held. I strode in, glancing back once to make sure Gabriel had followed, then walked much deeper into the warehouse, all the time tiptoeing, making sure my heels didn’t click on the floor.

  It was still and quiet. No one appeared to be around and I could only hope the security cameras hadn’t caught us going in or that any were in operation inside. The last thing I wanted was our encounter caught on camera, a free porno for the workers to watch tomorrow at lunchtime over their egg mayonnaise sandwiches. Or, God forbid, evidence if they passed it to the police. Being the star of a film like that wasn’t something I would relish.

  “This way,” I whispered. “To that far corner there.”

  We walked quickly, and I pushed through another set of plastic doors. Gabriel was so close his every breath blew on my neck.

  Finally we were in the space I’d seen from the outside, last summer. Behind a stack of wooden pallets stood a row of empty cages. The light was dim in here, no fluorescents, the air a little cooler—just as well, I was so damn hot.

  Excitement churned within me. What was going to happen next was the seedy stuff of my fantasies, or so I hoped. “See the cages behind?”

  “I see them.”

  Impatient to begin, I tugged his arm and walked toward them, thankful they were stored somewhere secluded. If anyone came in, we’d be shielded by the towering pallets.

  “This is decidedly dangerous,” Gabriel said, although he didn’t sound bothered.

  “That’s the whole idea. A bit of danger. Gets the blood pumping. And your cock if I have my way.”

  “Oh, you’ll have your way all right—after I’ve had mine. I have a wickedly sinful idea for this encounter. Been thinking about it all day—to the point I had to pretend I needed the restroom during my meeting today. I had to…go and squeeze my cock.”

  I flushed with pleasure that he’d been thinking about me like that when he should have been concentrating on other things. That I’d dominated his mind was something to be proud of, an accomplishment I’d hoped to achieve but hadn’t thought I would.

  “Did you have to wank?” I asked, sliding between the end of a stack of pallets and the wall, then finding myself in around a twelve by twelve space with three empty cages. I turned to watch Gabriel coming in behind me. “Did you have to”—I tugged his tie by the end, drawing him closer to me—“give yourself a good seeing to?”

  “Almost,” he said, gripping my waist and yanking me toward him so our bodies were flush. “But after coming so hard earlier on, and the thought of coming later, I held off.” He licked my mouth, one solid, quick swipe across the seam, then turned his lips in on themselves as though he wanted to lick those too, tasting me. “And knowing what was to come was bloody torture, but now I’m here, so worth the pain.”

  I smiled, trying to hide the fact that he was making me flustered. My heart was pattering nineteen to the dozen, and if I wasn’t careful, my knees would give out. He’d had such an effect on me I was hard pressed to think straight. I blinked a few times to clear my mind of images that had begun sweeping through it, of us on the train—his sordid little stick, the drawing pin digging into my face, his cock in my cunt.

  “So,” I said, needing to get this show on the road. “Where do we go from here, Sir?”

  He swallowed, shifting his gaze from me to the cage farthest from us. It was tucked right into the corner, trapped by brick walls and a pile of pallets. The door hung open, the only one inviting me to go inside.

  “Get in there,” he said, pointing to it. “And get undressed. Leave your boots on, though. I want to see you in nothing but them.”

  My stomach turned somersaults and I gladly obeyed his command. Thankfully the cage had a floor that wasn’t like the rest of it—inch-wide squares—and was a flat piece of sturdy plastic. Inside, I turned to face the door then began taking my clothes off. When I stood in nothing but the boots and my panties, he widened his eyes.

  “Ah,” he said. “Now then, they can stay on as well.” He darted forward and rudely swiped one finger up my slit. “Crotchless. Yes, you’re such a filthy little slut.”

  I could smell him—aftershave and the faint aroma of the outdoors. And myself. That tangy, musky scent that would only get stronger as time wore on. Already I was damper than I’d been upon seeing him again, my cunt drenched, my anticipation of what was to come making it grow wetter by the second. I had what felt like butterflies fluttering around in my chest, and if I didn’t know better I’d swear the edges of their wings were tickling me.

  “Yes, I’m a filthy slut, and I want you to treat me as though I am one. A dirty, brazen hussy who likes nothing more than a good fuck in public places. And you’re good at that, fucking in public places. The idea of getting caught turns you on, doesn’t it?” I panted for a second or two, the images my words had conjured sending me lightheaded. “Except in here we’re not locked in, we’re not safe like we were on the train. Here, anyone could walk through that gap there and find us. It gets to you, doesn’t it, Sir?”

  “Fuck, yes. And you being in that cage, the one who’s standing there in nothing but a pair of boots and a skimpy pair of knickers, would be the one who’s going to be looked at first—and for longer. Imagine that security guard if he finds us. Think about the shock you’d give him. And the hard-on. Yes, sub, you think about that while I get my toys ready.”

  “I’m not your…”

  He shot me a look then turned to face away from me and ferreted about in his pocket. I craned my neck to see what he was doing then stopped myself. Wasn’t the anticipation part of the fun? Not knowing what he was going to produce? I didn’t care what it was so long as it gave me pain—and lots of it. I craved the ache of bitter sensation, the rawness, the utter severity of a streak of agony going through me as I built to orgasm.

  God, I wanted him to hurry up, to swivel to face me and reveal what he’d brought with him.

  “Are you ready, sub?” he asked, keeping his back to me, holding his hands in front of him, hiding what was within them.

  “Yes, Sir. Are you?”

  “Oh, I’m more than ready. I’ve had this on my mind for hours. All that’s left is to see how you cope with what I plan to do.”

  My stomach lurched at the same time my muscles there decided to spasm. I was high on excitement, on pins and needles to get this thing started. My arms were by my sides, but if he took any more time about it I’d end up massaging my tits and fingering myself. I needed stimulation, my body was screaming for attention.

  “Shut the door,” he said. “And secure it.”

  I did as he’d asked, dropping down a small catch. The thrill that gave me, being locked in but on show, like an animal, a possession, was out of this world.

  And tonight I was his possession.

  “Now then,” he said. “Move to the door and push yourself against it. Make sure your nipples poke through those square holes. I want to see your flesh bulging through them, too, small hills of skin that I can poke and hurt, just the way I think you like it.”

  Oh, yes, he knew exactly what I was after, knew my fantasies just as well as I knew them. I pressed my body to the door, my toes, my mound, my tits and face, glancing down to make sure I was applying enough pressure. My nipples, distended and so rock hard they ached, jutted proudly through two of the squares. I looked debased, as though this act alone had violated some form of code where couples just didn’t do this kind of thing with one another. Except in the world I longed to inhabit full-time they did—every day, every night and every spare moment be
tween.

  “Close your eyes,” he said, voice sterner than I’d heard it before.

  I did, holding my breath, unable to stop a blast of visuals streaking across the insides of my eyelids. I couldn’t latch on to any of them, couldn’t harness them and inspect what they were, to tease myself with each image and revel in the feelings they produced. They raced by too fast, as though they were there to entice me to chase them, knowing they were too swift, too clever for me to catch them up.

  The warmth of his breath touched me first, then the slight connection of his tongue swiping across my mouth through the cage. I gasped, having been expecting pain and not something so delicate, so arousing, albeit on the other end of the scale.

  “You taste like cunt,” he said against my lips. “Salty. You’re hot, aren’t you—so hot, almost feverish.”

  I would have nodded if I hadn’t been so close to the door. “Yes, Sir.”

  “And you’re about to get hotter.”

  He pinched both of my nipples, twisting them violently. I gasped, thrilled at his sudden attack on them.

  “Does that hurt, sub?”

  “Yes,” I said, no longer having any energy to dispute that I wasn’t his sub. I was just a pain slut—oh yeah… And there it was, pain of the most delicious variety.

  “Not as much as it will in a few seconds.” He licked my mouth again. “And this”—he jabbed his fingers inside my slit while still twisting one of my nipples—“what does this feel like?”

  “Torture, Sir.”

  “But I haven’t hurt you there. Yet.”

  “I didn’t mean that kind of torture.” My words had come out rapid where I was struggling to breathe—this was getting to me in a way I hadn’t dreamt possible.

  “Tell me what you do mean.”

  I raised my hands and gripped the door, sliding my fingers through the squares then curling them downwards. The metal bit into my skin, making my bones hurt.

  “I meant that it was torture because I want you to be more aggressive on my cunt, Sir. I want to come already, and if you just…shove at it, I’ll go over the edge.”

  “A bit of nipple play and you’re ready to go? My, little sub, you’re a firecracker. A wanton, filthy firecracker.”

  If he kept up that kind of dirty talk I’d go off like one soon. He twisted my nipple the other way at the same time as delving into my wet cunt.

  “That’s as far as my fingers can go because of the cage,” he said. “So if you imagined me ramming my fingers in and out of you while you’re in there, you’re going to be disappointed. Still, you could always hurt yourself. While I watch and do…other things.”

  I swallowed, my mouth watering. “Please, Sir. I’m aching. I need more than that—more than what you’re doing to my nipple.”

  He scissored his fingers between my labia, catching a slip of flesh between them. Then pulled. “Like this? Do you like this kind of more?”

  I sucked in a breath. “Yes, Sir. Yes, like that. Please do it again.”

  He did, harder, and I bunched my eyes closed tighter, hissing out a long breath.

  He took his fingers away from my pussy, let my nipple go, and I opened my mouth to protest.

  “And this,” he said.

  A snarling bite of pain lanced through my nipple. Evil and so sinfully brilliant, it flooded my system with alarm. I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out, wanting to open my eyes to see what he’d done.

  “Don’t you dare look,” he said.

  I panted as the pain seemed to bloom before it receded somewhat. My nipple throbbed along with the pounding of my clit, and the pulse in my neck joined in. I was a mass of beats, my body the instrument he was playing so well.

  A menacing shard of hurt gnawed at my other nipple, and I groaned, long and low, drowning in the beauty he was producing, that wonderful, such sought after agony I’d been wanting. Something clanked against the door, and I remembered just in time to keep my eyes closed.

  “You can open them now, sub,” he said.

  Slowly, I peeled them open, oddly wanting to prolong the anticipation of what I’d see now he’d given me permission. I stared at the clamps he’d put on my nipples, vicious-looking silver sparkles, teeth shark-like and I imagined just as sharp. A slim and elegant chain joined the clamps, and it hung much like the letter U on the other side of the cage door, the bottom curve as low as my navel.

  “Now it’s time for the pain to really begin,” he said.

  Chapter Three

  He slid one finger beneath the chain loop then curled it. Gave a short, sharp little tug. I groaned at the lash of pain that whipped from my nipples deep into each breast. He lifted the chain—still holding it with that curled finger I wished was inside my cunt, the end of it rubbing my G-spot—and held it mid-air.

  He tugged again. Harder. And didn’t let the chain have any slack.

  I stared down at my nipples. They were distended, pulled so taut the soft circles of darkened skin around them were drawn through the squares. The pain went beyond immense, beyond anything I’d experienced before, but rather than push into the cage even more to lessen the wretchedness I was feeling, I reared back a bit to heighten it.

  I looked up at him, challenging him to pull even harder.

  He raised his eyebrows, as though questioning if I were serious.

  “Do it, Sir,” I said.

  He paused before he gave the chain another sturdy yank.

  This time the pain was greater than anything I’d ever endured. If I thought I’d been hurting before, I’d been wrong. It was like my nipples were blistered, as though fire raged through them, a torture that made my knees buckle and my cunt get wetter.

  “Oh, God,” I breathed. “Oh, God…”

  “That’s it,” he said. “You’re taking this very well.” He applied a bit more pressure. “And that. Aren’t you such a good girl?”

  “Yes,” I managed.

  He stepped toward me, giving me a breather as the chain slackened.

  Then he wrapped it around his fist a couple of times. I felt my nipples turn toward each other, and I stared down at them, at how they were so out of shape they’d become unrecognizable.

  “Have you had enough, sub?” he asked, resting his forehead on the cage, trapping my abused nipples between his chest and the door, giving them a fresh wave of misery.

  “No, Sir. I want more.”

  “Good, so you won’t mind me doing this.”

  He fumbled lower down between us, then the touch of what must have been his fingertips prodded at the top of my slit. He pushed them into my wet folds. And pinched my clit. I was in no doubt that he was using a finger and his thumb now, such was the intensity of his grip.

  “No,” I said, gasping to control my breathing. “I don’t mind that one bit, Sir.”

  “That’s all right then. So you won’t mind if I do it again, will you?”

  Before I could answer, he tweaked my clit again and gave the chain another wrench. I dropped my head back and gave in, having to push my body back into the cage to relieve some of the pressure.

  “Open the door,” he said.

  Somehow, I managed it. He stepped away, letting the chain go, pulling his finger and thumb back through the squares. The sensations in my nipples grew worse, not better, flooding my system with the mad alert that my God, I was on fire.

  “I think it’s time I joined you in there, don’t you?” he asked, pulling the door so the chain was taut and my nipples once again distended.

  I gasped and the sound mixed with a bang echoing toward us.

  I froze, held my breath deep in my lungs.

  “Shit,” he mouthed, glancing over his shoulder at the slim gap we’d squeezed through.

  I was hot and cold, the temperatures combining on my skin in a confusing contrast. I was also attached to the cage door he was holding open, the chain leading from my left nipple, taut through the mesh, before clamping onto my right nipple. Not only was I caged, I was also tethered.<
br />
  Fuck it. Was someone really coming back here, to where the empty pallets and cages were stored?

  I could hear my pulse in my ears but nothing else. My pussy was humming, the lingering discomfort of him having pinched my clit and stretched my lips still murmuring sweetly to me.

  Silence enveloped us. The shadows wrapped us up once more.

  “It was nothing,” I said after what seemed a long, quiet minute. “And distant, too. Perhaps a car door outside or something?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” A slow smile spread on his face. “Damn, this is getting you off, isn’t it? The thought of getting caught?”

  “It adds to the urgency, adds to the need for you to get the hell on with it.” I pouted. “Come on then. Get in.”

  He released the door and took a step back. Raised his eyebrows and folded his arms. “Excuse me?”

  “Come on. Get the hell on with it.”

  He tutted and shook his head. “Oh, dear, that’s really not very good behavior, is it?”

  Frustration bloomed within me. I could tell he was going to make a point of this obedience thing at exactly the wrong moment. I was gagging for it, my nipples, and the pain in them, ruling my thoughts. I needed tension on that chain again. I needed my pussy filling—properly, not just a swipe over my lips and a quick poke inside.

  “Mmm,” he said, eyeing me from toes to tits. “I suppose I should get on with it, time being of the essence and all, but just so we’re clear, there will come a day when I teach you patience, teach you how to hold off an orgasm when you’re in this state for a full twenty-four hours.”

  ‘In this state’—that’s what I was, in a state. The urge to masturbate was almost overwhelming. “Please,” I begged. “Please, Sir.”

  “A bit of begging will get you everywhere…tonight,” he said, suddenly stepping into the cage with me. It rattled a little and shifted under his added weight.

  He reached around me, pulled the door shut and flicked the catch.

  His body heat was like a balm to my flesh, the feel of his clothing on my bare skin almost more arousing than nakedness. The buttons on his jacket were sharp and cold on my back, the material a little rough. The tight weave of his trousers on my sore arse, combined with a solid bulge, made me groan and shut my eyes.