Sure Thing Read Online Free PDF

under him when he finally raised his head. I felt the brief cool draft on my wet breasts before the tight pinch of the clamps sank onto my nipples, first the left, then the right. I screamed, but more in anticipation of the pain I had expected. The reality of it though, was much less severe. Not comfortable, certainly, but not painful. Not exactly. Yet.
    I was panting, my whole body tense. I felt the bed dip, was aware of his length stretched out alongside me. He took my chin in his hand and turned my face to his, kissed me. It was enough, it captured my attention, anaesthetized me until my shaking body adjusted, accepted.
    “Are you okay, Ashley? How are you feeling?” His voice is low as he murmurs in my ear, his hand lightly caressing my breasts, his touch featherlight on my tortured nipples. “Do you remember your safe word?”
    “I’m, I’m fine. I think.” My own voice is shaky, breathy, my fear and uncertainty obvious.
    “Your safe word, love? Do you remember what it is?” Again, that soft voice, concerned. Caring.
    “Yes, yes I remember.”
    “And…?”
    “I’m okay. Really.”
    “You will tell me the moment you’re not? I can stop, slow down, try something else.”
    “Yes, I know. I will. But, I’m okay. For now.”
    “You’re a lot more than okay, sweetheart.” And he chuckled softly before kissing me again.
    I squealed when the vibrations started, my engorged, sensitive nipples now tingling as the bullet-like weights suspended from the clamps sprang into life. The sensations were intense enough if I remained still but magnified if I moved, causing the suspended weights to swing and tug at my nipples. And occasionally, if I didn’t move, Tom would take the weights and pull on them gently, or nudge them to create new and deliciously painful sensations. And all the time I lay there, helpless, accepting. Trusting him.
    I was dimly aware of the bed moving again—this time as he got up and stepped away. At some level I could feel his gaze—I knew he was watching me from wherever he was in the room. And I didn’t care. The stimulation pounding through my clamped nipples was so focused, so overwhelming, I was focused solely on that.
    “Open your legs, Ashley. Wide.”
    At first I was stunned, couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now. I didn’t move, despite his instruction, riding the pain/pleasure of the nipple clamps.
    “Open your legs. Now.” The voice was harsh, commanding, requiring obedience. But still I lay there, stupid, dazed.
    “Last chance, or I do it for you. Which is it to be, Ashley?”
    Through my hazy confusion the bite of his stern voice was at last penetrating my consciousness. I needed to do something, and do it right then. Or else. Or else what?
    I tried to open my eyes, searching for clues, but the blackness of the blindfold was uncompromising. “What? What should I…?” I was mumbling, whimpering almost. His strong hands took hold of my ankles, pushing them up toward my hips, forcing my knees to bend. Then he slid my ankles apart, spreading my thighs, his hands moving to my knees to open them wider. I gasped as the tendons in my inner thighs stretched. It was painful, he was hurting me. Really hurting me.
    “No, stop, please, Tom, stop.”
    “Safe word? Are you safe wording, Ashley?” The pressure didn’t ease, but got no worse either. He waited. And I waited. At last, “No, no safe word. I’m okay.” But I wasn’t at all sure I was anymore. It wouldn’t have taken much at that point.
    He seemed to understand how I was feeling, how close to breaking I was, and he gently stroked my screaming inner thighs, massaging the cramping muscles until I began to relax under his hands. He kneaded and caressed me, waited for me and gave me time to become calm again, accepting again. I was acutely conscious of his strong, firm hands, his fingers sliding along my inner thighs, his thumbs slipping into that hollow where thigh meets groin, almost touching the sensitive,