FrankenDom (9 page)

When he nodded, Dirk turned the wand back on and stood there holding it.

Julian reached out and trailed the fingers of one hand ever-so-lightly down my ribs,
and I inhaled sharply as tickly shocks of sensation zapped me. Holy Christ, he’d electrified
himself.

He did it over and over, painting my ribs, my abdomen, the insides of my arms and
my armpits with continuous streams of little shocks while I gasped and giggled, jerking
in my bonds.

“Hold still, slave, or I’ll have to tighten your restraints.”

“I’m trying, Sir,” I defended. When he just looked at me, I steeled myself. “Okay,
holding still.”

“I think you’ll enjoy this,” Julian said. Then he brushed my stiff nipples with his
index fingers.

I jerked hard. “Oh my God.”

The stream of hot, tingly sensation was unbelievable, drawing the mysterious connection
between my nipples and my clit tighter and tighter.

He pulled his fingers bare millimeters away and the shocks became more intense as
he traced them in tiny circles. It felt like he was poking my nipples with hot needles
and twisting them at the same time, and I cried out, trying to back up, to pull away.

But Julian just chuckled and followed me. There was no getting away, no way around
the intriguing pain except through it, and I felt something settle inside me again,
deeper this time. My eyelids grew heavy as I sank into the biting flood of sensation.
God, it was beginning to hurt really good. I wanted more.

He pulled his hands away and I watched passively, feeling only floating curiosity,
as he leaned down and traced the perimeter of my nipple with his stiffened tongue.
At first it was just warm and deliciously wet, but then he inched backward and the
sensation grew knife-like.

I cringed away, crying, “Ow, ow, ow!”

Immediately he backed off, only to inflict the same wet torture on the other side.

“Ow, ow, Julian, please!”

He touched both nipples with his fingers, tugging lightly.

“Better?” he asked.

Sagging with relief to be back to the
good
pain, I murmured, “Mmm, much.”

I looked down at my nipples, expecting them to be bright red, if not smoking after
their ordeal, but they looked completely normal. It was almost disappointing. If I
had to suffer that kind of discomfort, shouldn’t there be evidence of it, if only
for a little while, so that I could admire it?

I frowned. Where in God’s name had that thought come from?

“That was a little more intense, wasn’t it?” Julian said. “Moisture on the skin reduces
resistance to the current. Makes it more shocking,” he said with an evil grin.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Sir,” I muttered.

He drew his hands away. “Rachel, I want you to grasp the chains over your head as
high as you can reach them and hang on,” Julian said. “Don’t let go or I’ll have to
punish you.”

Blinking in confusion, I did as he asked.

Dropping to his knees, he reached out again, this time aiming for my most delicate,
drenched girl-bits.

I let go of the chains. “Yellow! Red!”

Julian froze for a moment. Then he nodded at Dirk, who turned off the wand. “Good
girl,” he said gently. “Now Rachel, tell me why you used your safe words.”

Julian Kilmartin—giver of pain, giver of praise.

Swimming through a wave of cognitive dissonance, I said, “That would have hurt very
badly and you know it.”

“Rachel, you have my word I will never hurt you more than you can tolerate,” he said
gravely.

“You just did!” I cried.

He shook his head. “No, I kept increasing the stimulation until it became too much
and then quickly retreated to highest level of stimulation you enjoyed. My goal isn’t
to cause you actual pain, but to keep you balanced on that magical line between pleasure
and pain. You play the guitar, don’t you?”

Confused by the abrupt change of subject, I nodded.

“Think of your pain tolerances rather like the strings on your guitar. Each has its
own perfect pitch in a given moment, but they tend to go flat between uses and you
have to tune them every time you play. Correct?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

“Do you just tighten them to the perfect pitch? Or do you over-tighten them, edge
into sharp territory, before settling back into the true pitch?”

I nodded. “Over-tighten. It’s easier to hear and holds the pitch better.”

“Exactly. That magical line, where the pain is most intensely pleasurable, is the
perfect pitch I’ll strive for each time we play, but to find it, I’ll have to cross
it a little and then back into it. And as with the guitar, your tolerances will have
to be constantly fine-tuned. They aren’t uniform over your entire body, nor are they
static, if you’ll forgive the pun. Like guitar strings, your limits will stretch over
time and be affected a host of other influences, such as your skin condition, general
health and mood. The settings that are too high tonight might feel blissful tomorrow
and not be high enough the next day. Establishing your tolerances will be a constant
challenge for both of us, and we have to be able to trust each other—you’ll have to
trust me to back off when it becomes too much, and I’ll have to trust you to safe-word
if I’m not backing off enough. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said warily.

“Now, for your pretty wet cunt, I intend to start again at the wand’s lowest setting
and work my way up to that perfect pitch. Do you think you can let me do that?”

As he spoke, I’d relaxed a bit. But that didn’t mean I was ready to keep going.

“What is it that’s worrying you, really?” he asked, watching me closely.

“I…I just…” I shook my head. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m about to jump off a cliff
and I don’t know what’s at the bottom, or even if there is one. What if I just keep
falling?”

Julian leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close with one hand
and rubbing the other in comforting circles over my butt. Resting his chin between
my breasts, he looked up at me, his eyes luminous in the flickering light.

“Darling Rachel,
I’m
at the bottom,” he said. “I’ve waited seven incredibly long, difficult years for
the opportunity to catch you when you let go, and I think you’ve been waiting for
it too. But you have to let go first. You have to give yourself to me and trust me
not to let you fall too far.”

“But how will you know? We haven’t discussed my hard limits, or soft limits, or anything
else,” I protested.

His stare intensified. “Can you trust me, little slave, just for tonight, to be watching
and listening for what you need? Can you accept without proof that I’ll know your
limits and respect them, even if I push them a bit?”

That was asking a lot and I wasn’t at all sure that I could give it to him, but I
wanted to try.

I nodded. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”

“Then grasp the chains as instructed and don’t let go.”

He nodded at Dirk and I watched, tense with anticipation and dread, as his finger
hovered over my mons and then drew close enough to deliver a snapping shock. I gasped
and twisted at the sharp tingling but Julian persisted, skimming his finger all over
my pubic mound and down the creases of my thighs. It tickled and stung and drove me
wild with need, and just when I least expected it, Julian leaned down and started
teasing between my arousal-slick nether lips with his electrified tongue.

I squealed, panting and gasping, squeezing my eyes shut as I writhed in my bonds,
but he never let me get away for more than a heartbeat.

“Take it up,” he murmured.

When I realized what he meant, I opened my eyes. “No!”

It was too late. Sharper shocks seared my inner labia and clit as his tongue moved
restlessly up and down, and I screamed with fear and frantic arousal. My chest heaved
while strange, painful twitches pulled me tighter and tighter. Then my legs began
to shake and I went up onto my toes.

“Oh Christ, I’m going to come!”

Hot fingers pushed up into me as Julian’s tongue finally made full, lavish contact
with my clit.

The orgasm streaked through me like an electrified blade, tearing me open, making
me gush sensation with every hard contraction. I thought I screamed but the only thing
I heard was the pounding in my ears and a choked gurgling as the upheaval in my body
went on and on. When it began to wane, I felt links of cool chain slipping slowly
through my hands and then I hung free, floating away on clouds of emptiness. Not the
bad kind of emptiness, but the good kind, where there was no emotional clutter, no
conflict, no pressure, no indecision.

Was this what heaven was like?

A hand cupped my head and I opened my eyes. Julian was leaning into me, his face against
my ear. “I desperately need to fuck you, my beautiful slave, and Colin and I are both
disease-free.”

“I’m on the pill, so please fuck me, Sir,” I mumbled immediately.

He backed away far enough to free himself, dragged me up the wall by my butt and then
set me on the head of his hard cock. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist,
moaning at the thick, delicious intrusion as I sank onto him. And sank. And sank.

My eyes flew open and I stiffened my legs, trying to resist the downward pull. He
was
huge
, shoving into every crevice and making my already tender opening sting. “Oh my God,
Julian, stop!”

Breathing hard into my neck, he paused. “Safe word?”

I thought for a second. “Yellow.”

He shuddered. “All right.”

As he hovered there, leaving me teetering on the edge of pain, the edge retreated
a bit and I began to relax my legs but he held me up.

“I think it’s okay now, Sir,” I whispered.

Instead of letting me sink, he thrust up a bit and then groaned. “Still okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thank God. Dirk, get behind her.”

I blinked in confusion when Julian pulled me away from the wall so Dirk could slip
in behind me.

Still breathing harshly, he explained, “This could get rough. I don’t want your back
bruised by the wall.”

How thoughtful. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

I realized what he meant almost at once. Julian gave me no further quarter, squeezing
my butt cheeks almost painfully as he fucked me deep and hard. It didn’t exactly hurt,
but the sensation of his big cock bottoming out in me sparked an internal ache that
made me moan and squirm. Then Dirk’s hands found their way to my breasts and squeezed
roughly, and I finally noticed the hard ridge against my low back. The realization
that I was smashed between two fully clothed, fully aroused male bodies sent my mind
drifting off on heavenly currents again.

Julian paused long enough to heft me up a little higher and I opened my eyes. Over
his shoulder, I could see Colin staring at us with hungry, tortured eyes, and I wished
it was him behind me, pushing his stiff cock into me.

Then Dirk began tweaking my nipples, pulling on them, twisting them to the point of
pain, and I gasped as heat splashed down into my already aching pussy.

Julian groaned, increasing the pace of his pounding. “You feel so good,” he gasped.
“So clean.”

The odd comment caught my attention. Okay, clean was good.

Dirk forced one hand downward between Julian and me, and then his fingertips made
contact with my clit, rubbing hard, sure circles on it.

“Come on your master’s cock, naughty little cunt,” he ordered.

Almost against my will, I obeyed, throwing my head back against his shoulder and howling
as I came again.

Julian’s groans grew choked, his pace blistering as he forced me back into Dirk.

Dirk didn’t let up on my clit. “Again,” he barked, pinching my nipple ruthlessly.

With Julian’s cock swelling and throbbing inside my poor, swollen pussy, his broken
cries in my ear, I half-screamed and half-sobbed as I came one more time.

* * * * *

I had no idea how much time had passed when I finally floated up to awareness curled
up on Julian’s lap. We were still in the lab room. Someone must have brought in a
chair.

“Are you cold?” Julian asked. When I shook my head, snuggling into his warmth and
savoring the strokes of his hand over my back, Vince brought me a bottle of clear
Gatorade from a small refrigerator under the lab table, which I hadn’t noticed because
it was black like the cabinets.

“Drink it all,” Julian ordered. “And be careful to moisturize your skin every day.
I enjoy electrical play and indulge myself quite often but it tends to be very drying.”

He turned me on his lap until my back was against him and I was fully facing Colin.
Then he held out his hand so that Dirk could squeeze a large blob of aloe gel into
his palm. While I drank, he rubbed the gel into my torso with both hands, lingering
over my still-sensitive nipples. The scent of ozone wafted from my warming skin.

Vince took the empty bottle as soon as I’d drained it, and then Julian curved my hands
around the seat of the chair.

“Don’t let go,” he ordered, pulling my thighs apart until my toes touched the floor
on either side of us. When I squirmed, suddenly feeling too exposed, he said. “Leave
them that way. He enjoys the view.”

As his hands resumed their slow exploration of my tender breasts, weighing and squeezing,
he nuzzled my neck and ear.

“You smell exactly as I always imagined you would,” he murmured.

My breath caught at one sharp pinch. “Like ozone?”

“Mmm-hmm. Ozone and hyacinth and hot, sticky cunt.”

An odd confusion of embarrassment, excitement, and intense pleasure prickled its way
up my chest and neck. “I always wondered how you tasted,” I confessed.

He rumbled his pleasure. “Believe me, little slave, I want you to find out. But not
tonight.”

Julian reached down and, over Colin’s growl of protest, turned one of the knobs on
the e-stim unit. I stared in unconcealed fascination as Colin’s cock bobbed and twitched,
and his stomach and thigh muscles repeatedly tensed and released.