ROAR (59 page)

“But we’re also going to try something else that’s new tonight. He reached inside his breast pocket and pulled out the bamboo skewers and rubber bands from his office. “Have you had bamboo used as clamps before, Sprite?”

“No, Sir.” The breathy response told him she was ready. He always loved finding things she hadn’t tried before.

Roar rubbed the sides of the thin sticks over every inch of her breasts, occasionally poking her nipple with the pointy tips or slapping the long ends against her nipples to keep them engorged in anticipation.

He’d begun conditioning her nipples in Big Sur with the tweezer clamps, and eventually would introduce the intimidating clover clamps, but he was still exploring her tolerance levels. Like paddles, her body seemed to welcome all types of nipple clamps, too. He detected no sign of anxiety or fear.

“Tonight, I ask you to show me how well you’ve learned to discipline your mind, body, and mouth as we test your pain boundaries. The scene might be uncomfortable at times, but I have yet to reach your pain limit and want to explore further. Remember that I expect you to use your safeword if you even come close to your limits, unless you want to forego making love tonight and count about three thousand grains of rice.”

She quickly masked her concern and nodded. “I will obey, Roar,
Herr
.”

“It pleases me when you’re honest with me and don’t allow me to do any harm. I want to know the second you’ve reached your limit. Keep your gaze downward regardless of position unless instructed otherwise.”

“
Ja, Herr
.”

“Now, assume position number one.” She lifted her hands and interlaced them behind her head, elbows pointed outward at ear level, legs spread to shoulder-width.

“Well done.” He pinched her nipple again before separating the two sticks of one pair and tried to determine the best position for them. Secured too close to the base, and they wouldn’t be any more intense than the tweezer ones. Too close to the tip might be more intense than she was ready for. He decided halfway between the tip and the base would be a happy medium.

He remembered his own Dom training under Gunnar experiencing bamboo clamps. Gunnar had made sure Kristoffer didn’t try anything on his submissive he wouldn’t first try on himself. He always took great joy in making sure Kristoffer knew the outer limits of pain he could inflict. Now
that
man was a genuine sadist.

Focus, Roar!

He noticed she was watching his every move, but he’d asked her to keep her gaze down, too. He spread the sticks of one set apart and eased them over her erect left nipple. When he released them suddenly, she gasped,
almost
trying to shrink away from him. Her arms bowed forward slightly as she absorbed the pain, but she promptly regained her composure and returned to the proper position.

“Well done.” She smiled and relaxed. He stroked the area around her breast to sooth away some of her pain. Then he clamped the other nipple and set the timer for twenty minutes.

“You seem to be taking the pain well, wench. Is that so?”

“
Ja, Herr
.”

He rubbed her areolas and bent to lick the tips of her nipples exposed beyond the sticks. She moaned. “Like that?”

“Oh,
ja, Herr
!”

He grinned. “Remember to take slow, deep breaths throughout the evening to help control the pain and your concentration.” She took a deep, cleansing one now. “That’s my good girl.” He kissed her cheek to ground himself, and said, dropping the accent, “Assume position number five on the chaise.” She sauntered over to the foot of the padded lounging chair in the corner of the room, head held high and showing no anxiety. This
was
funishment, after all.

But he couldn’t let her disobey, either. “Two more whacks for not keeping your gaze down, wench.”

Kneeling, she bent at the waist and stretched her torso gingerly over the length of the chair, trying not to twist the bamboo sticks, and placed her hands on the floor, palms downward. While not a spanking bench, it should work well, especially given her short stature.

This position caused her crinoline petticoat to lift just as he’d hoped, baring her ass to him nicely. No panties, of course. Her pale, rounded globes begged to be reddened, and time was running out. He slapped the paddle against his palm several times, watching her ass cheeks clench each time.

“Hold that position for me as you think about why you’re about to receive a dozen swats and how they are delaying the fun we could be having now.”

But both of them were enjoying the hell out of this, no doubt.

Kristoffer wouldn’t need to restrain her. She’d trained so well she would barely move a muscle—except perhaps for those in her ass when it became sore. Oh, yes, how he planned to make
those
muscles dance. Lifting the crinoline petticoat and skirt up to reveal even more of her backside, he applied a few light warm-up taps to bring the blood to the surface in preparation.

Quickly, without warning, he lifted the paddle and landed it firmly on her left cheek. “Count for me, bar wench.”

“One, Sir.”

“In German.” She’d told him about taking a semester of German in college. She ought to at least remember the basics of counting, he would expect.

“
Eins
,
Herr
.” He grinned.

Slap!

“
Zwei! Danke, Herr
.”

‘Thank you, Sir?’ Nice touch.

Seeing her left cheek begin to pinken, his next blow fell to the right one. And then another on the same side in quick succession. She continued to count and began to thank him for each one. The next three fell squarely across both cheeks in the same spots he’d hit before. The four holes were making nice marks, indeed—sometimes whole and other times crescents, depending on how the flat beer flight tray connected with her not-so-flat ass. She’d want to see them later, no doubt, so he pulled out his phone and took a picture. While his phone camera wasn’t connected to his cloud, he made a mental note to erase it before the image accidentally made it into the wrong hands.

The eighth blow fell a little lower, where her thighs met her ass. Her uncharacteristic groan made him pause, and he watched as she lifted her torso off the chaise. Apparently, her movement had twisted the clamps. He wondered if she’d make it through the entire session without using her safeword.

He grinned. She’d also lost her composure and didn’t hold position. “Tsk, tsk,
fräulein
. This session is intended to teach you to control your body and mind. You force me to add two more swats for moving without permission, as I try to drive this important lesson home.”

The removal of the clamps would become more painful with time, but he was only halfway through his twenty-minute maximum. He had a paddling to finish first.

“We’re more than halfway through,
if
you don’t incur any more infractions.”

To make sure she wasn’t afraid to end the scene for fear of disappointing him, he advised, “
Fräulein
, if you are beyond your pain limit and don’t use your safeword, I would be terribly disappointed in my Sprite. Are we clear that would not be acceptable?”

She nodded her head. “
Ja, Herr!
”

“Tell me what pain level you are now.”

“Drei, Herr.”

Only a three? Not even close. Returning his attention to her now-reddened ass, he delivered without hesitation one more blow to each cheek.

“
Neun
und
zehn
,
Herr
.” She paused to take a breath before adding a thank you in German this time.

He smiled as he lifted the beer flight paddle for the next swat, which landed squarely across her upper thighs. But he heard no number.

“What are we forgetting,
fräulein
?”

“I know I’m supposed to count out loud, Roar,
Herr
…but I can’t remember the number for eleven in German.”

“I’m happy to help. It’s
elf
.” Ironic that his little sprite hadn’t remembered that word, given his nickname for her. “What’s the highest number you can count to in German?”

“
Zwanzig
.”

Twenty? Now to make this even more interesting. “Very well. I will be lenient and give you permission to lapse into English when necessary until we reach the maximum number of earned swats.”

“
Danke, Herr!
” Her relief was evident as she accepted his offer, but it would be short-lived.

He smiled at her, even though she couldn’t see his face. “
However
…” He let the word hang in the air a moment for maximum effect and watched her body stiffen. “…
only
those swats in which you use the correct German word will be count. But I am not unreasonable, so I will not exceed
zwanzig
, the highest number you remember in the language.”

“
Danke, Herr
. Um, you are very kind.” She didn’t seem upset at all that he’d potentially added more swats, but he didn’t know how well she could speak German, either.

Perhaps he needed to switch things up now, in case they were nearing the end of the paddling.

Kristoffer stepped over to the dresser, lifted the towel, and picked up a new implement. He wondered how she felt about this one. Grinning, he knew he was about to find out.

*     *     *

Pamela waited in anticipation for the remaining swats. What a creative and innovative Dom she had. That beer flight paddle had become an instantaneous favorite. Surely she’d demonstrated to him how well she could handle it, too.

Her backside burned, but she was far from her pain limit there. Not even the bamboo nipple clamps hurt, but of course that was because her nipples were numb. The pain for them would come later.

A minute must have passed, and she wondered what he was waiting for. She used the time to refresh her memory about the remaining German numbers. If she could count in German, she had four swats left, but because she didn’t know the number for twelve, either, that would mean five to go. If she missed too many others, she wouldn’t be able to sit for a while. Fortunately, for most of the remaining numbers after twelve, she only had to add -
zehn
to the ending of the root number.

But what was the blasted German word for twelve?

A higher-pitched swish of air told her he’d changed implements even before the leather slapped against her burning cheeks. She squealed in pain, and her upper body jerked in a futile attempt to escape. The cursed nipple clamps and the fabric of the chaise rubbed her tender flesh.

Sweat broke out on her forehead. She took a slow, deep breath to regain composure.

“I didn’t hear you.”

Because I didn’t say anything. Dammit! What’s the word I need?

She gave up. “I’m sorry, Sir. I can’t remember the number for twelve either.”

“Z
wölf,
for future reference.”

Z
wölf!
That’s it! He’d retained his German better than she had. He didn’t know she’d be in a German costume, so he couldn’t have brushed up on the numbers beforehand, although she wished she had.

And what implement was he using on her now? Not a cane, but definitely thinner than a tawse. A riding crop maybe? Not her favorite by a long shot, but this session was purely a fun roleplay, not one requiring discipline, which lessened the sting somewhat.

The next blow landed across her upper thighs, jarring her again, although she managed to move very little. She eked out her thank you in German, followed by “
Dreizehn, Herr
.” Another swat landed squarely across her butt’s curve making her want him inside her so badly. Would this be the night?

Focus!
“
Vierzehn
.
Danke, Herr
.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she fought to regain her composure. The sting was slow to subside in any of the places she felt pain.

“What pain level are you now, Sprite?”

“
Vier, Herr
.”

“Shall we continue?”

“Oh,
ja, Herr
.”
I want to get this over with
. If she’d paid better attention in her German class in college, she’d be finished now. Instead, she still had at least two more to go—
auf
Deutsch
!

Steeling herself to remain absolutely, perfectly still this time, she breathed in through her nose and exhaled slowly though her mouth.

Swat!

Once again, the thin leather landed on her rounded flesh, in almost the exact same spot. The sting was becoming unbearable, but she had this.

“
Fünfzehn!
” She’d always loved the way the word felt on her lips. One more, and she’d be done. But the words barely came out in a squeak this time.

The swishing sound of the riding crop sailing toward her made her hold her breath. He seemed in a hurry to complete the final count.

Swat!

“
Vielen Dank
,
mein Herr!
That’s
sechzehn!
” She thanked him profusely for speeding it up, even though she didn’t think tonight’s session was intended for anything but having a good time. Still, she was thankful this part of the scene would soon be over.

His hand touched her left butt cheek and squeezed. Hard. Not expecting that, she moaned and then fought to regain her breathing. The pain heightened as he squeezed her other cheek. They
were
finished, weren’t they?

“You’ve been such a good girl for me, how would you like two more swats as a reward using the beer flight paddle? I could tell how much you enjoyed it.”

Confused, but excited at the same time, she prepared to tell him yes when his finger slid between her folds. “So wet. Should I take that as a yes?”

“
Ja, Herr! Bitte!
” He knew what she loved.

Because her butt was even more sensitive now that he’d brought more blood flow to the surface, not to mention the soreness of where the riding crop had struck her a minute ago, these swats would be delicious.

Instead of delivering them, though, he stroked her clit. Feeling his fingers there, she nearly came. Would he make love to her soon? Her butt rose in invitation, and she moaned.