Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
I come for my fucked-up master like I’m in dreamland.
And then the cycle reverses.
He tugs his hand out of my ass and takes his gloves off. He unties the bow on my cunt and takes off the ribbon.
Every needle is a slice of cutting pain as it’s pulled free.
I wail like a banshee when the one is pulled from my clit, and Master gives me a gentle shh, getting to work on my thighs.
Other hands join in to help. Both ladders on my ribs being pulled out in sync, two needles at a time, until it’s only my throbbing tits remaining. Master gives me a countdown from five until the needles are taken from my nipples, and I’m still reeling as the rest are pulled out. Circle after circle after circle.
My legs are unshackled and lowered before my tits are set free of their bindings, but my bandy thighs are useless, so strong hands hold me steady. I grit my teeth under my hood, and curse obscenities as the final twine is unravelled, and my tits are allowed to fall free.
Jesus fucking Christ, it’s agony when the blood starts flowing back into them. They are going to be fucked for days. Bruised for fucking weeks.
“Time’s up now, Holly,” Master says. “You’ll be escorted out now and helped with the aftercare. Then you’ll be driven home.”
“Thank you, Master,” I manage to say, and my shackled wrists are undone.
I’m lucky enough to be able to hold on to two strong elbows as I’m guided from the room. My legs are still bandy when I hear the original voice of the night saying thank you, I’ll take it from here.
“Are you ok?” he asks as he guides me down onto a soft seat.
“Yes, thanks. I mean, kind of.” I have the post subspace giggles, as I struggle for words. “Yeah. I’m ok.”
“Let’s get you a drink.”
He hands me an open bottle of water, and loosens my hood just enough to let me take a sip from inside.
“I’m going to be using some antiseptic wipes now,” he tells me. “They might sting a little.”
My giggles notch up. “Don’t worry. I don’t think it will top the scale somehow.”
I wonder how much blood he’s wiping away from my skin as he works. My heart is thumping on a high, and I don’t actually give a shit. I’m still elated from my gig with the founders, and elated I didn’t use my safe word, and elated by fucking everything.
I’m helped back into my dress, slowly, grateful I chose my outfit wisely as soon as the fabric glides against my prickled skin. My pumps are easy to slip my feet into, thank God.
I’m ready for home, ready for bed, but most of all I’m ready for Josh. More than anything in the entire universe right now, I’m ready for Josh.
I need him so much it aches as bad as my tits.
I’m gripping onto my carer’s elbow, on my way to the door when we stop suddenly.
“One sec!” a voice sounds out, and it’s a woman’s voice. A voice I know so well that my jaw drops. OH MY FUCKING GOD! I want to rip my hood off, but even in my shocked state I wouldn’t be that stupid.
“Hey, Ella,” Orla says to me, and lays a hand on my arm. “Woah, you nailed it there, girl. I’ve seen some five star hardcorers in my time, but that was epic. Great work.”
“You were watching? Were you in there?! Seriously?”
“I sometimes have a performance viewing, to check out the hardcorers,” she says. “But I’m a spectator through the viewing pane on the balcony, not in the scene itself. I just wanted to say hello. Hello and well done. You were brilliant.”
I get a fresh round of giggles.
“Hello and thanks. That’s amazing. Seriously, it’s amazing.”
I’d want to talk to her for hours if my body wasn’t on the verge of collapsing.
“You’d better get going,” she says, and I don’t argue, because I can’t. Once my fading adrenaline wears off, I’m going to be screwed.
“Just a couple of things first, though,” she says. “One is that we’ve rescheduled your calendar to give you recovery time, as we did last time. Nobody will be complaining, and you’ll be reimbursed for every job.”
“You don’t need to –”
“Stop,” she says. “Don’t even think about protesting. It’s standard.” She pauses. “What isn’t so standard is that we’ve done the same for Josh’s calendar, so he can support your recovery. We alerted him earlier, and he was very happy for the consideration.”
“Wow, that’s crazy. Just, um…” I sound so ditzy. “Thanks! Thank you!”
“Oh, and the other thing,” Orla says. “Your recovery period won’t be in a random townhouse Airbnb, Ella, not this time.”
I get a different kind of shiver up my back.
“What do you mean?”
I know she’s smiling. I can feel it. I just wish I could see it.