“Holy mother of God! Take it off! TAKE IT OFF!”
Her thighs clamped shut and she tried to squirm away from me. That did nothing to help with the clover clamp on her clit, though.
I couldn’t help but pretend to not understand what she was wailing about. “What do you mean? Does that hurt?” I grinned.
For a moment I seriously considered pulling it off rather than just releasing it. If you have ever played with a clover clamp, you know what that does; it just clamps on harder, trying to retain its grip.
Still, I had to hand it to her; she didn’t even make a move to remove it herself. Such devoted dedication to her own debauchery and defilement must be rewarded from time to time. So I pried her thighs open and released the clamp gingerly and was rewarded with an even more piercing wail.
“Oops. He he. Forgot to tell you that clamps hurt when they come off too…”
“This is like real torture. Medieval,” she shuddered. Then she fell back to the bed and sighed to the ceiling, “Damn endorphins; where are they?”
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
@Gentle Spirit – as all good sadists do!
I hope those endorphins kicked in soon after.
@Dreamwalker – I’m giggling away here because I *know* that sense of humour. I’m wondering if it is related to the sadistic gene…
You did forget to mention my darling how you so lovingly tugged and pulled at the chain to make sure I got the full excruciating experience. So thoughtful you are.
I left it out because I didn’t want people to think I was some sort of sadistic crazy meanie. I’m just a big teddy bear…