Safeword: Davenport(26)

He walked between her legs and gently opened her lips, inspecting her, looking up briefly to say, “Remember, no words,” before dipping his head, his tongue proceeding straight for her clit.

Zach kept his tongue outside, teasing her for eons before finally licking inside of her. He relentlessly sustained her levels of arousal until she thought she'd explode—he helped a few times, backing off seconds before she reached the point of no return, but then he'd dive back in. Occasionally, he'd stimulate clit, pussy, and ass simultaneously, and would praise her successes when he saw her fighting to resist. She had to concentrate to keep from saying words at first, but after a while found a rhythm of making oh and ah noises.

With her hips held immobile, and her legs trapped in the stirrups, opened wide with no way to close them, she had to take whatever he gave her. He must have kept her right on the edge for half an hour when he stuck a lubed finger in her ass again, while his lips were sealed around her clit, and several fingers of his other hand were already in her pussy. The orgasm came out of nowhere and shattered over her, drowning her in its intensity. She heard herself screaming, but only as the climax began to fade did she realize she was lamenting, “I'm sorry,” repeatedly.

As her breathing fought to normalize, her eyes wide as she looked at him, he slowly withdrew his fingers and reached for a baby wipe, taking a moment to clean himself before walking to her side.

Eyes kind but stern, he touched her cheek softly with the back of his fingers. “I know you're sorry, but those were words coming from your lips, and you weren't asked a question.” One corner of his mouth tilted up, ever so slightly. “However, considering the words were to express your regret, and since you screamed them through the entire climax, I'm inclined to make the punishment for speaking a touch less harsh. The speech and orgasm were a joint lapse, so we'll tie the consequences together."

He returned to the armoire and strode back with a short leather flogger and something hidden in his fist. Tossing the flogger on the cart, he reached for her right nipple, already sore from the clamps and leash this morning. His fingers rolled, squeezed, and deftly clamped it, the pain sharp and overpowering as he moved his attention to her left nipple, quickly giving it the same treatment. She looked down and spotted a third clover clamp, a chain running in a Y between the three of them.

Looking up, gasping in pain, she saw compassion in his eyes as he said, “They'll be on for as long as it takes to give your punishment strokes. You won't have to bear it five minutes. You broke two rules at once and this is a fitting consequence. Offer your tongue to be disciplined, pet."

He looked into her eyes, waiting for her to acquiesce, and she didn't make him wait long—her fear and dread igniting into an enormous glowing orb of lust as she stuck her tongue out. It wouldn't do for her to come while being punished, but she was very close to another orgasm.

He dried her tongue with a washcloth before pulling the clamp up, the chain drawing her nipples towards her face.

It took all of her willpower to hold her tongue still as the clamp approached, her eyes crossing as she tried to follow it. He allowed the pressure to slowly increase, giving her time to deal with the unfamiliar torment, but her eyes were watering long before he finally released the handles. The clamp wasn't on the tip, but farther back, so she felt the compression on the muscle within as well as on the surface. She'd never had her tongue clamped before, so this was a new sensation—completely different from the pressure on her nipples.

The chain leading to her mouth must have been shorter than the one between her nipples, and as the chains tried to reach equilibrium, her nipples were pulled towards her face as her tongue was stretched farther out of her mouth—all three clamps tightening to their maximum as they strained against each other.

The pain rapidly neared the unendurable as the muscles at the base of her tongue were strained. She dropped her chin close to her chest, her vision focusing in on the flogger in his hands as he stepped towards her again. She hadn't realized it would be rawhide, and she was suddenly terrified.

He draped the flogger over her stomach, and wrist cuffs were quickly buckled on and secured over her head, making it harder to hold her face close to her breasts.

Drool formed, but she had no way to control it, and was helpless to stop the trails going down her chin onto her chest and neck.

Retrieving the flogger, he walked to the foot of the table, looking into her eyes for several long seconds before saying, “You're being punished for orgasming without permission, and for speaking when you weren't asked a question. You'll receive ten strokes to the inside of your thighs."