He cocks his head, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Guess you have a point there.”

I make grabby hands toward him for the string of pearls. “Can I do the honors?”

“How’d this game take such a drastic turn?” he wonders aloud, passing me the clamps.

I grin. “I like this new version way better.”

“You wou—Ouch, son of a bitch!” His hand lifts to cover the clamp that’s now dangling from his nipple. He rubs at the sting, but he doesn’t pull it off.

“How is it?” I ask, as if his yelp wasn’t telling enough. I have no interest in clamping the other one after his reaction. Nor do I have any desire to try them on myself.

He busts out laughing at what is no doubt a horrified look on my face. “I was fuckin’ with ya. It’s not that bad. A little uncomfortable at first. Nothing worse than what I was just doing to you with my teeth.”

My cheeks flush at the memory. I don’t know what’s come over me; I’ve never been into mixing pleasure and pain. But fuck…that was hot. I feel myself getting wetter just thinking about it.

“Okay,” I say poking out my tits and shimmying side to side, determined to put the blind trust I have in this man to the test. “Lemme have it.”

“You’re sure?” he asks, as he removes it from his chest.

“Yep.” I nod, and close my eyes, only to be pleasantly surprised when instead of a pinch I feel wet warmth followed by intense suction. He lays me back down, slipping a finger through the easy access slit in my thong into my pussy while laving at my nipple. Next thing I know, he’s working on the other breast.

I look down to find the clamp already attached to the one he just left.

Lyle leaves me no time to panic over the application of the second clamp, cleverly distracting me by rocking two fingers in and out of my throbbing pussy. The pressure is so intense everywhere that when he brushes his thumb over my clit, I release a sharp squeak.

“All done,” he says, staring down with pride at his handiwork. “How’s it feel?”

I’m twisting around like a worm on a hook, that’s how it feels. “Like I—I need you,” I moan, grappling for his retreating shoulders, desperate for him to bury his thick cock inside of me.

“How’s this?” he asks, ignoring my plight as he gives the tether joining the clamps a slight tug.

“Oh, God,” I moan, thrusting my hips into the air.

Apparently, I am a sadist, because holy hell, I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. Or hell. There probably are not torture devices designed for crazy girls’ pleasure up there.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”