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“You’re beautiful when you beg,” he says, grazing my nipple with his teeth as a finger sinks into my soaked heat. I nearly come undone.

“More, please…”

He pauses, and for a moment, I think he’s going to give me what I crave. Instead, he pulls away and strides across the room.

At the glass-topped dresser, he opens a drawer lined with neat rows of gags and anal plugs that gleam like curated jewelry.

But it’s the glint of metal in his hand when he turns that knocks the breath from my lungs.

Two brutal-looking clamps, joined by a chain of polished steel.

“What are those?” My voice comes out thinner than I intend.

“Punishment.”

“No!” I tug against my restraints as he closes the distance.

“Afraid so. You’ve spent the last week driving me mad with these pretty little nipples.” He tweaks one in warning. “Now it’s my turn to play with them.”

The clamps snap shut on tender flesh, and agony rips through me. I cry out, caught between a scream and a sob.

“They’re too tight!”

“No, they’re perfect. And they’ll only get tighter every time you forget to call me sir.”

He proves it with a slow tug on the chain.

“Oh God, stop!” The words rush out in a desperate plea I’m not sure he’ll honor.

Because there’s no safety in protest, only the faint hope of mercy, and I’m clinging to it with everything I have.

“I’m not God, Novalee.” He cranks the vises on my nipples, and I can’t help but scream what he wants to hear.

“Sir!”

Without warning, he lets go of the chain and sinks to his knees.

Instantly, I’m on fire in a different way.

“You have a gorgeous cunt,” he says, leaning in, his breath stoking the coals of arousal as he teases my mound.

I’m so desperate for his mouth that my hips jerk forward. My nipples blaze with constant torment, and an impatient whine breaks loose.

“Every sound you make gives you away.” A kiss brushes my inner thigh. “Every breath and whimper.”

Another moment passes before he drifts closer to where I ache for him. I’m hot and wet, legs forced apart and shuddering, blood thundering through me. My muscles burn from the strain of bondage, yet it pales next to the sight of his lips hovering inches from my pussy.

“I know how you squirm when you’re close, and I know the rhythm of your need.”

“I need you to touch me!”

“Oh, I know you do, sweetheart.” He gives the chain another yank, and my whimpers shatter into sharp cries. “But we’re not on your timeline, are we?”

“No,” I gasp.

He increases the pinch. “How can I make you come if I’m too busy punishing your disobedience?”

“Please, sir. I’ve denied myself for weeks.”