Savage walked with her, using the chain like reins, tugging every few steps so that her breasts swayed and she gasped softly as the clamps bit down. The weights pulled her breasts and tugged on her nipples, increasing the flames licking at her body.
“Think about those clamps coming off, baby,” he counseled wickedly. “All that fire rushing through you, consuming you. What a burn. There it is.” He indicated the switch on the ground. He’d swept the ground earlier with a branch of leaves to get rid of the rocks, so when she crawled, she wouldn’t get hurt, but still, the idea of her willingly suffering for him added to the excitement.
A fresh flood of tears on her upturned face rewarded his reminder. She reached down and picked up the slender, flexible switch he’d made and handed it to him. He tugged until she was forced to stand. That made her clench her little red ass, and she made another little cry that sent heat sizzling through his veins like a drug.
“You dreamt of this, didn’t you, baby? Right out here in the open? Someone could walk right up on us, couldn’t they? You wanted this. You have to tell me what you want, baby.”
The switch wasn’t a whip or a flogger, but it would leave the marks he needed, and it would hurt—but it wouldn’t damage her, not like any of the tools he had at home. He’d still have to be careful. He’d need control. He didn’t want this to be over until the dark pool of rage had dissipated enough and he knew Seychelle and everyone else around him were safe.
Seychelle shook her head, but Savage could see how bright her eyes were, the pupils dilated. She wanted this. Anticipated. But the trepidation was there, and it was thrilling. She kept looking at the thin branch he’d shaved so carefully while he’d been sitting at the picnic table, talking with Maestro and Destroyer, and drinking his beer. He’d been anticipating, just like she was now.
“Are you lying to me, baby? Because that wouldn’t be a good idea. Not with the way I’m feeling.” He stepped close, using the chain to force her back against the tree trunk. It wasn’t exactly smooth. “What do you want?” His heart was beating right through his cock.
“You. This.”
That was all he needed to hear. “Put your arms back around the tree, Seychelle, like you’re hugging it.”
She swallowed hard, her eyes on his, but she complied without hesitation, wrapping her arms around the tree in a backward hug. He walked around behind the tree, pulled the ties from his pocket where he’d stashed them and yanked her wrists together. He’d eyed the trunk earlier to make certain she could circle it with her arms, and she just barely made it. The bark would be pressing uncomfortably into her back. He tied her wrists so she couldn’t move and then walked with deliberate slowness back around to stand in front of her.
The position he’d put her in forced her generous breasts outward, jutting them right at him, the little balls still swinging from her body. “Spread your legs. I want your feet planted beyond your shoulders.” He walked back to the table with that same deliberate slow stride, took his beer and drank, watching her struggle to get her feet in position without moving her upper torso.
She was beautiful. Tied to that tree, she was gorgeous, waiting for him. Waiting for his switch. Or whip. Or any damn thing he chose to do to her. The rush was on him now, the monster fighting for supremacy. He put his beer down and walked back to her, watching her gaze dart around her as voices rose and fell, sounding close.
“Savage …”
He didn’t let her finish. He knew no one was approaching their campsite. The voices came from those camping close. He wanted her to hear them, just like in the film she’d watched. He unhooked the chain and slipped it in his pocket. He smiled at her. “We can’t keep those clamps on, as much as I want to. They have to come off, baby. They’ve been on too long already.”
Instantly, she broke out in a sweat and shook her head. His smile turned very wicked as he slid three fingers into her slick heat and began a slow pumping while his thumb strummed at her clit. Every line in his face was stamped with a sinful, sensual cruelty as he reached for the clamp on her left breast. He took it off fast and watched her face as the blood suddenly rushed back into her nipple, causing an excruciating, almost agonizing pain. His fingers pumped faster, and his thumb and forefinger suddenly pinched her burning clit.
She came with a wild choked cry, the orgasm crashing through her in waves, even as tears poured down her face and he licked and kissed them away. When the last rolling wave was gone, he held out his fingers to her, and smiled as she sucked them clean.
“There’s still one more clamp, baby,” he reminded her. His gaze never left her face. God. That face. So beautifully expressive, just as much a canvas as her body. So his. So much beauty. Such a gift. She was wild with need, but just as fearful of the pain. She wanted both. Hated that she did. He needed that confusion. Craved it.
He dropped the chain so that it hung from her nipple, the other clamp and three small weights pulling as well. She gasped and cried out, helpless to do anything to stop the pain with her arms wrapped around the tree. Savage leaned in close and pressed a kiss to the corner of her left eye and then took her tears.
“What did I tell you about making a sound, Seychelle? We have our rules, don’t we?” He kept his voice low, but added a menacing quality as he once again slipped his fingers into her hot little pussy. It was already slick with anticipation. He circled her clit. This time, he wasn’t going to give her the end result she wanted. He needed so much more. He was just getting started.
Savage reached out, staring straight into her eyes, and pulled hard, yanking the clamp away from her nipple. Seychelle nearly cried out, but caught herself as the blood rushed back into her nipple. The ropes binding her to the tree kept her up as her knees sagged. Her hips rode his fingers frantically, but he pulled them away, depriving her of her pending orgasm just before it roared through her. He leaned forward and took her breast into the heat of his mouth, soothing away the pain.
“Savage.” The ache in her voice was real. The pain. The need. “Please.”
“I’m going to decorate your body, that little pussy and ass, and then I’ll give you my cock the way you need it, Seychelle.”
She was so delicious. She didn’t fight him or protest. She straightened her knees, wincing a little as her back hit the bark, thrusting her breasts forward for him. He picked up the switch. She would see this coming. Each stroke he put into it. He knew the places that would really injure her, and he was always cognizant of how hard he struck her. But the beast was screaming for pain. For action. For retribution.
He slashed a stripe across the front of her thighs. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. The oils in her pussy and ass had to be building a fiery desire when she clenched in preparation for his strikes. He was faster, delivering several more up her legs to her mound, that pretty little bare mound that belonged to him and was so sensitive. He was good. He was an artist. He could write his name if he wanted, but he had another goal in mind.
He stepped up to her, his fingers trailing up her thigh to find her heat. The oil had spilled out of her along with her spicy honey. “You’re so hot for me. You like this, don’t you? You’re just waiting for my cock.” Bog, he loved to hear her say it for him.