Hard Lessons (12 page)

Chapter Six

I’m in the dungeon, alone, waiting for Nick. Oddly, the solitude doesn’t bother me this time, I guess because I know he’ll be here soon. Very soon. Too soon, maybe. I’m nervous, apprehensive as I kneel on the floor and wait. And I wonder. I wonder what he has in mind. He promised me no more abandonment stuff to mess with my head so I’m sure it won’t be that. But other than that, and the spanking I might have quite enjoyed, all bets are off.

Nick has instructed me in the fine art of submissive kneeling, and I reckon I’m pretty good at it now. Knees apart, spine ramrod straight, shoulders back, hands on my thighs, palms up. I close my eyes whilst I’m alone, but I know that when he arrives I must keep my eyes on him. When in Dom mode, Nick demands undivided attention from a submissive, and if I allow my gaze to drift he’ll punish me even more severely.

I’ve no idea what form Nick’s punishments will take as I’ve not earned one since that first day. He did say then that as spankings seemed to arouse me he’d have to come up with something different. I have a horrible feeling he might have decided on orgasm denial, and privately I know that will be truly horrendous for me. Nick only has to look at me and I start to come. If he instructed me not to climax I doubt I could manage that. Except I’d have to, somehow, if that was what he instructed me to do.
Shit.
I haven’t mentioned it, I won’t ask. But he’ll know too, how it would affect me. He always knows.

My head’s starting to whirl, and I’m just edging ever so slowly toward panic when I hear the door click. I turn slightly toward the sound, and see his jeans-clad legs strolling across the floor of the dungeon toward me. I raise my eyes, see that he’s bare-chested. Even in the present circumstances I love it when he leaves his shirt outside. Even though I’m totally naked except for my usual chain and wristbands, it seems to even the score, just a little.

I don’t speak. Nick has also explained that unless I’m answering a direct question, I’m expected to remain silent during any act of discipline. For me, that means my hands remain still. I’m always silent. Nick walks around me, looking at me as I kneel before him, perfectly still. I manage to follow him with my eyes, more or less, as he circles me. He holds up his hand, my cash card between his thumb and index finger. I left it on the table in the kitchen.

“This is yours, Miss Stone. Keep it safe.”

I’m bewildered, absolutely at a loss.

He smiles, though the smile never reaches his eyes. “You only needed to ask me, and we could have renegotiated our arrangement. If you feel more secure with access to your own cash, I get that. I completely understand that. I don’t have a problem with it. This, Freya, is about deception and lying and about hiding things from me. That I do have a problem with. And that’s what I’m going to discipline you for. Is that perfectly clear? Do you have any questions? Anything you need me to clarify before we start?”

I shake my head, and just wish he’d get on with it so that all this can be over.

He crouches in front of me. “Open your mouth, please.”

I obey, and he slips the card between my teeth.

“You wanted this, so here it is. Don’t drop it, Miss Stone. Now, do you remember how to present your breasts? I explained it to you that first night, at the club.” His tone is still hard, formal and cold.

My insides shrivel—more at the chill in his voice and the displeasure I know I’ve caused than at the prospect of what’s to come. I nod, and, somewhat awkwardly, shift my position to stand in front of him, concentrating on gripping the cash card tightly between my teeth. I place both arms behind my back, cupping my elbows in the opposite palm. This forces my shoulders farther back and thrusts out my breasts.

“Very pretty, Miss Stone. Well done. Now I’m going to squeeze and pull your nipples until they’re swollen enough to clamp. I’m using strong clamps designed for punishment rather than arousal so it’ll hurt, a lot. It’s meant to. You will
not
like this, Miss Stone. Not at all. But I require you to remain still and let me do it. When it gets really painful you might find it helps to bite down on that card of yours. You’ve practiced this before, back in the dungeon at the club, so you have some idea how it feels. It’s just going to be more painful this time. Any questions?”

I nod, and he steps back. He inclines his head slightly, my signal to continue.

I bring my arms out of the breast display stance and start signing. “How do you know it’ll hurt so much?”
Silly question, I know. But still… “
And what will happen if I move?

“I know it’ll hurt because you’ve very sensitive nipples, and because I intend to explore your pain thresholds very thoroughly this time. I’ll deliver as much as you can take, but not more. And not less either because where would be the point in that? The need for obedience is a lesson you’ve been struggling to learn. I intend to make it memorable. I don’t want to have to repeat it and I guarantee you won’t want that either. So, are we okay to continue?”

It’s some sort of explanation, I suppose, and it makes a perverse sort of sense. And I accept I have earned this punishment. I gave him the right to discipline me when I agreed to his terms for my training. Conversation over, I nod and take up my position again without waiting for him to instruct me. My reward, a curt nod. Nick Hardisty is one seriously pissed off Dom this evening. I shudder—this does not bode well for my comfort levels in the next few minutes or so.

I stand, my breasts thrust out at attention, as Nick strolls across the dungeon to pick up his selected instruments from a tray on the low table that held the lubrication oil earlier. He’s clearly decided in advance what he’ll be doing and what equipment he’ll need. He comes back to stand in front of me, his right hand clasped around something, a long, light gauge chain trailing between his fingers. His face is expressionless as he loops the chain around the back of my neck and releases the nipple clamps dangling from each end to now hang down between my breasts. I glance down, and see that he’s chosen clover leaf style clamps. They look cruel. I’ve not experienced this type before, but I know that these are designed for pain rather than pleasure as they cover the entire nipple, effectively preventing any caress or erotic contact once they’re in place. They just grip, and they hurt. I chew my bottom lip nervously.

“Remember, Freya, you are to remain perfectly still. The only permitted movement, if you can’t bear it, is to show me a wristband. I’ll slow down, or I’ll stop altogether. You do need to accept your punishment before we can move on but we can always come back to this later. Is that clear?”

I nod again, but with less conviction this time. He picks up on my uncertainty at once.

“If you think you might struggle, tell me now and I’ll tie your hands behind your back. You can spit out the card and use the click signal if you have to. I don’t want to drag this out for you, so let me help you if you need it.”

I think for a moment, then sign my answer, “Yes, I think I’ll manage better if you tie my hands. Thank you, Sir.”

Another curt nod, and he crosses the room to take a length of black bondage rope from a drawer set into one of the display cases. He comes back to me and signals that I’m to turn around. I do as I’m told, and he quickly loops the rope around my wrists in a slip knot, pulling it tight enough to hold me but without cutting off my circulation. Subconsciously I flex my fingers within the bonds, and he sees. He wraps both his hands around mine and squeezes. The simple act of reassurance is powerful. It grounds and calms me, tells me that even though he’s going to hurt me, it’s not in anger. By the time he places his hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him, I’m ready.

Just as well, as he wastes no further time. He takes both my nipples between the fingers and thumbs of his hands and squeezes hard. I jump, I can’t help it, and he glances up at me sharply. “I told you not to move. Brace yourself, and stand perfectly still please.”

I nod, feeling the tears pricking at my eyes—uncertain whether they are the result of the pain he just inflicted, or his displeasure. He’s relaxed the pressure, but his fingers are still holding my nipples, rolling the sensitive buds, and pulling slightly. I close my eyes, determined not to flinch, not to move.

“Maintain eye contact, please. With your hands tied I need to be able to see your eyes to know how you’re doing.”

I blink, but do as I’m told. I’m to have no secrets.

He squeezes again, and this time I manage to remain still, my swollen nipples throbbing between his fingers as he pulls on them mercilessly. He maintains the pressure, glancing frequently into my eyes. I’m grinding my teeth against the cash card, but managing. Just. He ramps it up, pulling harder as though he intends to snap my nipples clean off. It hurts, it really fucking hurts, and I know my face is awash with tears. I’m glad he offered to tie my hands, there’s no way I could have borne this without moving. My instinct is to step forward, to relieve the pressure. He sees, he knows it.

“Don’t move. Don’t struggle. Let me do this without protest. We’re almost there. One final, hard pull and the clamps go on. And remember, unless you’re safe wording, you hold onto that card of yours.”

I nod, my lips compress around the card as I struggle to remain on my feet. True to his word, he delivers one last excruciating pull, this time twisting my nipples in his fingers to add extra bite. I gasp, a soundless breathy moan as my knees start to buckle. He catches me, one arm looped around my waist as he lowers me to kneel at his feet. Incredibly, I’m managing to hold onto the cash card, my jaws now locked solid around it. Swiftly he takes the first clamp, presses it open and positions it carefully around my distended, throbbing nipple. He releases the grip, and it snaps shut.

If I could scream, I’d be rattling the rafters. This is agony. Absolute agony. White-hot pain shoots from my tortured nipple in every direction, filling my entire body. He ignores my distress as, crouching beside me, he attaches the second nipple clamp, then turns me in his arms so I find myself lying on the floor, face up, my shoulders across his knees. I’m shaking, sobbing silently, hating him, hating this, hating myself for ever agreeing to participate in this whole masochistic episode. What was I thinking? What am I thinking? Why am I not clicking like a bloody alarm clock? I can make this stop, he told me how.

But I don’t. Instead, I lie there, shaking and trembling, biting down hard on my bank card as wave after wave of pain crashes over me. I don’t dare move for fear of causing even the slightest motion of the chain or clamps. But…I’m coping. I’m managing to bear it. I haven’t safe worded. Yet. Nick says nothing, just watches me. And waits as I adjust, as I manage to restore some sort of calm to my fragile body. As the seconds, then the minutes slide by I manage to find that place in my head that says that this is okay, that I can do this.

And I’m there. No doubt it’s mostly chemical as the endorphins kick in. Whatever, I’ll take what I can get. I lie still, on my back, resting against Nick’s knees, and at last, I manage to get my shivering body under some sort of control. He smiles, just briefly.

“Well done. That’s enough.” The whispered words make all this worthwhile.

I close my eyes, and he doesn’t instruct me to open them. I lie still, wincing only slightly as the pressure on my left nipple increases marginally before releasing. He lifts the now open clamp carefully away then shifts position slightly to release my right nipple. Somehow, incredibly, the pain surges at me again as the blood flow is restored, and I turn into him. He leans around me to loosen the rope around my wrists, and my hands are free. He takes the corner of my bank card between his thumb and index finger. “Let me take that now.”

I relinquish it to him, and he places it on the floor beside us. Then his arms are around me and he pulls me up to sit in his lap as he leans back against the column in the center of the dungeon. I’m sobbing silently, and his fingers are gentle now as they trace large circles on my back, soothing, comforting. Forgiving.

At last, I’m able to sit up and push myself away from him. I can hardly make out his features through the mist of tears but I know I just want to make this right. I want to be done with it, to be forgiven and move on.

My hands are still shaking as I sign my apology. “I’m sorry. Truly, truly sorry I disobeyed you. Thank you for taking the trouble, for teaching me, Sir, and I promise you won’t ever need to do this again.”

He cups my chin with his palm, holding my face still as he looks into my eyes. I try to blink away tears as he answers me, “Good, because I hope not to have to repeat this lesson. This time I put the clamps on just for a few minutes. Next time it will be longer, probably fifteen minutes. And then thirty if we need to go through it all again. Imagine how you’d feel if I required you to wear those clamps all night— Don’t let it come to that, Freya. I don’t want to cause you this sort of distress, but I
will
have your obedience, little sub, and I’ll do whatever’s necessary to get it. Do we understand each other?”

I nod, privately promising myself never to earn another punishment as severe as this has been. I can easily see how he could increase the pressure, force me to wear the clamps for longer. Except he didn’t force me, not really—I could have used my safe signal, I could still leave here at any time. I won’t, though. I want to stay, despite everything, despite the pain and the fear of the last few minutes, I want to stay. With Nick Hardisty.

He’s still holding my face, cradled in his palm. “Okay, that’s done with. Ready to move on? I think we need to give you something else to occupy your mind now. Something…uplifting to restore your faith in this lifestyle you’ve rushed headlong into.” His tone has softened, some of the old teasing now starting to creep back in.

I flinch, my breasts still tender as he lifts me and carries me across the room to the padded fuck-floor section. He places me carefully upright, my feet sinking into the cushioned surface, supporting me around my waist until he’s sure my legs will hold me again. My hands are free and my instinct is to cup my breasts, to rub my still sore nipples.