Page 88 of Bottoms Up

When it seated, I nodded and handed the cock cage back to her. She put it on, trapping the plug — ignoring his screams.

The clock had passed the two-hour mark.

Four quarts of blistering fluid churned in Atlas’s gut — ginger, cayenne, cinnamon oil, residual soap and glycerin. His body shook and trembled. He wasn’t sobbing anymore. He was past it. Silent, save for the occasional low grunt or twitching moan when a fresh cramp seized him. Screams when we tortured him above and beyond.

But he hadn’t begged for relief a single time.

His body did, however. Every muscle quivered with the effort of endurance.

Another stroke across his face, gentle. He met my gaze, and I said, “Welcome to Homewood, Muscles.”

I moved behind him, put the weights back on his balls, and decided he could handle another half-pound. I watched them sway, his balls hanging lower now. Purple, swollen, abused. The stretch was beautiful.

My cock was granite again.

I let the ache linger, then walked to Silver.

She whimpered at the sound of my boots on the floor.

She’d been watching from a few feet away, sitting on the floor where I’d pointed her when she’d finished the treadmill. Pale, her breathing shallow.

“You want a reason to scream?” I asked.

Her eyes met mine — wide, glassy, scared. Good.

She was exhausted. Fucked out.

She’d thought I was done with her. She was wrong.

I bent her over the bondage table and fucked her ass — hard, fast, unforgiving. No prep. Just minimal lube and a hand on her neck.

She wailed into the padding, fingernails clawing at the leather. I wanted it to burn. To bruise. To leave her aching fordays.

No orgasm. No relief.

Just pain and pressure and obedience.

When I finished, I pulled out and crammed a plug in her ass. She was freshly showered — we didn’t want the mess of my jizz running down her legs.

I didn’t bother telling her to stay put. She wouldn’t move without permission.

I walked back to Atlas.

He flinched when I touched him.

Good.

I lifted my phone. Showed him the timer.

Twelve and a half minutes showed on it. Slowly, inexorably counting down.

“See that?” I asked. “You don’t get the full time. You spoke when you weren’t asked a question. That word cost you ten minutes of agony. Pain you’ll never feel. Lost for good. The water comes out in two minutes.”

His gaze flicked to the timer. A flash of something unhappy, but he nodded.

I let him watch the time, and I looked up to Silver, still bent over the bondage table. Legs wide apart.

“You may sit on the floor again,stellina.”