The more she felt, instead, like she was in a kind of mountain pass with noise on all sides, but Conrad there as the horizon.
And the more she concentrated on him like the sky, the more she felt all the noise...combine. Into the greedy pulse in her clit, as if all the other things—the pain and the noise, the fear and the delight—was fuel for it.
It was only when he pulled those chains closer, the ones she’d been doing her best to forget, that Rory realized she hadn’t bothered to look at herself yet. She’d only been studying Conrad in that reflection.
She looked...like an extraordinary mess. Her face was red and blotchy. Her eyes were swollen. But that collar around her neck kept her chin up, and there was something about that, about the way it pressed against her throat, that streaked straight through her, to pool in her pussy. Her breasts looked obscene, her brown nipples clamped tight, and the more she concentrated on them the more the jagged edges of the clamps seem to dig in.
But then it all got worse, because Conrad was attaching the delicate little chain between the clamps to those chains. And then pulling on the slack until she yelped.
And when his gaze returned to hers, she felt it like another smack against her ass. Except this time, it seemed to hit her everywhere.
“Perfect,” he said, looking as if he was enjoying himself thoroughly.
He left her standing there, and she watched in the mirror as he went behind her and picked up a chair with a high back. She began to breathe, sharp and heavy, as he set that chair up in front of her. He eyed the chains again and made some adjustments.
“You’re doing very well, little one,” he told her as he worked. “Now you get your reward. There’ll be pain, of course, but I think you’ll find that as it mixes with pleasure, it creates its own cocktail. I suspect you will find it addictive.”
She was afraid she already did and, for the first time, was glad that she wasn’t allowed to talk and tell him so. Conrad finished with the chains and moved to her face. He studied her expression, then wiped the water from beneath her eyes.
It amazed her how much she craved his touch. How the tenderness seemed to mix itself up with a dull ache in her nipples. How it turned into something molten as it sank into her pussy and made her clit seem to swell.
“You don’t have to do anything,” he said, so stern, so commanding. “If I want you to do something, I’ll tell you. Unless I do, assume that everything is precisely as I want it to be. I don’t want you to help. I don’t want you to do anything at all but surrender yourself into my hands. Can you do that?”
Rory didn’t know the answer to that. She didn’t know what he was talking about—which she assumed, at this point, was part of why he’d said it. She didn’t know anything, but she knew that there was really only one response.
Because the idea of surrender didn’t make her want to cry any longer.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, and whatever uncertainty there was inside her, it seemed to flip over into something like joy when his mouth crooked in one corner.
“Good girl,” he said.
And then his navy blue gaze was all fire.
He moved her back a few steps, bringing the chair with him. She stood there, aware of the chains connecting her to the ceiling, but not sure why. Conrad straddled the chair, facing her.
Then, his gaze hard on hers, he unzipped his trousers.
And Rory thought she had never been so excited for a glimpse of a man’s cock in all her life.
But his took her breath away.
Because he was huge.
He held her gaze while he stroked himself, grabbing his own thick length in his fist. The way he moved that fist made her think that he was doing nothing so much as preparing yet another tool to torture and tempt her.
Rory’s mouth watered.
Conrad reached into his back pocket and pulled out a condom packet, and then she watched him roll a condom into place with the same brutal efficiency.
She couldn’t quite understand why watching this was charging around inside her, more thrilling than it should have been. When it was just a cock. A condom.
But then again, it wasn’tjustanything. It was Conrad.
He sat down in the chair, then pulled her over him. So that, if her arms had been free, she could have gripped the back of the chair as he settled her down on his lap.
But as he pulled her down to him, she felt the resistance from the chains attached to her nipple clamps. The bite. She sucked in a breath.
Conrad’s eyes blazed. His hard, wicked hands held her hips and positioned her where he wanted her, so that she could feel the whisper of his cockhead against the outer lips of her pussy.