Foresightful as I was, I had a small towel at hand as I removed Patrizia’s gag. It was a standard three inch ball gag. Defined by me as standard, that was, because I knew how Triz loathed huge gags. How they put unbearable strain to her jaw muscles. For ball gags – or ring gags not sitting too deep – three inches was the absolute limit she and her talented mouth could take.
Her chin and chest were already glistening with drool, but from experience I knew that a considerably higher amount had gathered behind the semi-sealing gag. My assumption was proven true as I worked the overly large ball out of her mouth and a gush of saliva followed. Hence the towel.
“Thank you, sir, for removing my gag,” Triz managed to articulate. She had worn the punitive device for the better part of two hours, all the way back from the restaurant including our detour through the woods. Her mouth would ache for a few days.
I cleaned the gag as well and put it aside after disentangling its complex head harness. Triz was now completely naked. Not being told to assume any specific position, she stood straight with her arms behind her body, backs of the hands pressed against each other and fingers extended. I was aware of the psychological impact on the lithe young woman to be the only one of us four in the buff. Gwendolen in her vampish cocktail dress was sitting in one of the club chairs, long legs crossed, a glass of wine in one, lazily twirling her black mane with a finger of her other hand. Across the scarcely-lit room Felix, her younger brother, fiddled with his tie whilst trying to find an ultimately cool way to lean against the mantelpiece. For somebody claiming Triz a bit too far on the skinny side, he had helped himself to a surprisingly unobstructed view at her derrière.
“The obedience training we started earlier on…” I mused, “may need some deepening until we can call it a lesson. I’m sure you agree to that, Triz.”
There was a certain lack of enthusiasm in her reply, due to recent events. As the four of us had returned from dinner, with Patrizia already gagged and being fondled, I had stopped the car on a snowy road deep within the woods. Following the biddings I had formulated much to the delights of my two other passengers, Triz got out in only her dainty dress and fancy heels. And even those didn’t remain long on her slender body. In the saloon’s main beam she undressed to the bare skin, placing her attire neatly on the bonnet. With no layer of protection left, neither physical nor psychological, she forced herself to stand still in a straight yet submissive posture for a certain length of time, her breath visible in the ice-cold night. Encountering the second part of her task, she then scooped a handful of snow and cupped her quim with it. It took longer than any of us inside the car had wagered for the very last of the frozen water to melt, actually five or six minutes. Triz then had to repeat the chilling procedure with both snow-filled hands against her breasts before being allowed back into the warm cabin. On the back seats Gwendolen quickly heated her up again as she had her way with the still nude girl, using her long and pointy obsidian fingernails in very wicked ways to bring the feeling back into Triz’ flesh.
I had reminded myself on that occasion to never leave Triz alone and helpless with her.
Now, seeing our plaything in the intimate glow radiating from the fireside, the thought gained a titillating dimension. Her runner’s body could take a lot of abuse, of that I was convinced. From the bureau behind me took the clamps and showed them discreetly to Gwendolen. She gave a silent nod, her eyes closed for a moment as a further sign of approval. If I were to find one single term to describe their unique style, it would be heavy-duty. Solid, all-steel and oversized, they incorporated the very definition of heavy-duty nipple clamps, designed and built with the sole intent to push the surely reluctant wearer to her limits.
“Hands behind your head, Triz.”
She followed, and I let her see the items soon to be adorning her breasts. Triz’s eyes widened. Unlike most other types, the heavy-duty clamps consisted of three parts each: two sturdy jaws and a massive corpus holding the mechanical parts. I took the liberty of teasing her nipples into hardness, causing Triz to groan. They were tender as they had already fallen prey to Gwendolen’s talons. Weighting the clamps in my palms, I knew Patrizia would wear them a lot in the future. Their jaws weren’t formed from sheet metal, but cut from solid material, and their grip on Triz’ nipples was merciless. She managed to keep silent as the serrated profiles closed around her flesh, but I noticed the strain running through her body, a manifestation of the urge to bend over from pain. Yet she kept her posture as her sporty breasts were pulled downwards. Again I could not but marvel at the clamps’ weight.
“Care to share your opinion?”
“They are intense, sir.”
Hearing these words from a girl who had suffered beautifully through crocodile clamps, tweezers, clover clamps and even grip pliers confirmed my sadistic streak to be alive and well.
“Please go over to Miss Gwendolen and ask her nicely to tighten them by three notches.”
Triz cringed. Unbeknownst to her each clamp’s corpus sported a ratchet-like mechanism, allowing the jaws to be closed incrementally, click by click. From her point of view the resulting conclusion was alarming at the least. Plus, she wasn’t too eager to offer herself to Gwendolen again, having been devoured by her in the back of the car. A predatory smile hid in the corners of the raven-haired woman’s mouth as Patrizia obeyed. She knelt next to Gwendolen’s chair.
“Ma’am, would you please tighten the clamps on my nipples, ma’am?“
“Why, of course, love!”
Gwendolen reached out from her comfortable position and gave three clicks first to the left clamp, then to the right one. Both times Triz answered with mute gasps, but showed no reactions otherwise.
“Thank you, ma’am, for tightening my nipple clamps.”
“You are welcome.”
Triz rose and glanced at me interrogatively. I nodded towards Felix. Our youngster had stopped bothering with his tasteless silver tie and was eagerly awaiting his turn. Unlike his sister he tightened both clamps simultaneously, causing Triz to flinch noticeably and draw in a sharp breath. Half a year earlier in her training she would have had cried out.
Tonight she didn’t. Tonight she thanked Felix and retuned to me, thus closing the circle. Time to do the math.
Each ratchet’s gear had thirty-six teeth, therefore thirty-six clicks equalled one turn. Three full turns were needed to move the jaws from end stop to end stop. By using a quick-close function I had skipped the first two when applying the clamps to Triz’ nipples.
I added my three clicks. The first one she took with just biting her lip. But as I turned the small knurl wheels again, she screwed her eyes shut. At the final one her mouth opened for a silent yelp.
“Stop pulling faces, Triz. That’s just the beginning.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
She spoke hastily and low, slurring her words. Like breathing, talking sent additional movement through her chest. I checked the clamps. They were extremely tight now, to the point the teeth had sunken into the nerve-rich flesh. Patrizia was in serious pain.
“You’re doing well so far, apart from that unladylike grimacing.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I nodded towards Gwendolen. A flicker of disbelieve emerged in Triz’ eyes.
“Ask her to tighten your clamps again.”
Triz swallowed hard. I left my gaze on her, silently demanding obedience. It wasn’t that she couldn’t take the pain. She just didn’t want to. I was bound to break her of that annoying habit to be submissive only when it pleased her. Her masochistic nature deserved better than that.
Gwendolen smiled sweetly as Triz knelt down before the chair again, breasts thrust out despite the urge to keep any tension away from her chest.
“Would you please tighten my clamps, ma’am?”
With her voice almost a whisper, as though she wished not to be heard, her request was far from being convincing. Of course Gwendolen made her pay for that. With cattish cruelty she flicked the clamps and tugged at the heavy chain between them, causing her victim to groan and squeal. The subsequent three clicks for each nipple were nothing short of devastating. Her squeals quickly turned into shrieks whilst her clasped fingers were cramping up and digging deeper into her long hair.
“You are almost there, aren’t you, honey?”
Patrizia looked up at the raven-haired woman with a puzzled expression. She was too distracted by the pain to follow.
“You are almost at you limit.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Triz gasped.
“What a pity; these are so much fun…”
Her fingers returned to play with the clamps under Triz’ constant whimpering. Manipulating the unyielding implements and the sensitive tissue trapped within them obviously helped Gwendolen pondering the possible solutions for our dilemma. That, or she was just granting herself some extra torture time.
“I could persuade our esteemed friends to let us go easier on your poor nips,” she suggested eventually. “If I am properly motivated, that is.”
Gwendolen’s intermezzo wasn’t scripted, and I became curious about where she was going with it.
“These two gentlemen still owe me for my rescuing this little wench from that nasty nippy night,” she claimed, thus delivering a rather peculiar interpretation of the earlier events. “From now on we will be tightening her clamps only one notch at a time. Afterwards, however, I will be granted full sway over her for the rest of the night.”
Triz dread-filled eyes threw glances between Gwendolen and me. It was only a quarter past two; the sun would not rise for at least another six hours. Far too long a stretch of time to be spent at the mercy of my mischievous lady-guest.
“One hour, not more, since your newly-found philanthropy bereaves us of considerable fun,” I played along.
Gwendolen hissed in mock indignation.
“That’s what I get for being kind…!”
Needless to say that this act of fake pity would only result in Triz having her nipples tormented more slowly; they were doomed to feel the full effects of the metal jaws, one way or another. She rose carefully from her kneeling position, anxious not to bring too much movement to her torso. But as soon as she started to walk the clamps swung heavily, causing her to wince with every step. Triz was really feeling their bite now, and no mistake.
“Would you please tighten my clamps, sir?”
A layer of fresh sweat caught the light of the fire, giving her skin a mesmerising sheen.
“Sure,” Felix replied with forced nonchalance. The hastiness in his hand moves gave him away. As though he expected Triz to skip him if it took too long. He still had a lot to learn from Gwendolen. Luckily I could think of nothing she wasn’t eager to share with her little brother.
Triz could not supress her screams anymore as the searing sensation made her legs wobble. She bent her knees, then lifted one foot in an awkward pain dance. It took the young woman the best part of a minute to compose herself after this latest attack. With glistening eyes she slouched over to me, only to be stopped by Felix again. Her whole body tensed as he reached around her, casually trapping the nipple chain between his palm and her lower sternum. His other hand moved to the small of her back, the tip of his index finger tracing her spine. Applying pressure, he ever so gently corrected Triz’ posture. Only when she stood straight and proud of her adornments again, he let her go.
That’s how you do it, Felix!
First tears found their ways down her cheeks as she gingerly approached me. Every swing of the clamps was now amplified tenfold.
She made another lukewarm step.
“Closer still,” I sighed and hooked a finger under her chain. Immediately I was rewarded with another shriek and a suddenly very compliant lass suddenly very close to me. The clamps’ teeth were not visible anymore, deeply embedded in the tormented flesh of her nipples. By now the pain had to be halfway between blinding and excruciating.
Her lips trembled, then moved in silence before any words left them.
“Sir, would you please tighten my―”
Fine drops of saliva, accelerated by her unbridled scream, reached my face. I’d worked both knurl wheels at the same time again and had relished the full, satisfying feel of a mechanism of closely-toleranced steel. With fascination I witnessed a first droplet of blood emerging from between the jaws of the left clamp, soon being followed by its crimson counterpart on the right one.
“Language. Or gag.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Triz gasped every syllable. She couldn’t stop sobbing and shuddering in the most exquisite of pain. The tendons in her arms stood out like steel cables as she forced her hands to stay behind her head. From here there was no more pleasure-pain, no masochistic rush. The only thing that made Patrizia keep going was sheer will power.
Where her pain marathon would lead her next was obvious.
“Come here, dear. I don’t bite,” purred Gwendolen.
Triz stopped in front of the woman, her face already wet with tears. My lady guest cocked her head.
“Don’t just stand there if you want me to attend to you.”
“Please don’t,” Triz whispered.
All of a sudden Gwendolen’s green eyes filled with frost and her voice darkened.
With a whimper Triz knelt down, once again bringing her maltreated breasts into a comfortable position for the black-haired woman. Gwendolen rubbed along the plier-like sets of jaws.
“Methinks we start with this one again.”
She tapped the clamp mauling Triz’ left nipple and in a sudden tightened the right one instead, giving the young woman no chance to prepare herself. Triz howled like a banshee. I never had much use for that phrase – until now. She continued her impressive attempt to shatter every glass object in the room until she ran out of air. Gwendolen tightened the second clamp. A weird sound filled the room as Triz tried to breathe in and scream at the same time. Red-faced, she gulped for air so she could continue to wail and writhe on her knees. Gwendolen hooked a finger under the nipple chain and pulled the suffering girl closer to convey her displeasure.
“I will not forget that disobedience of yours.”
Even in her mind-searing pain Triz obviously understand that this wasn’t an empty threat. She tried to please her by thanking, yet her words were barely intelligible. She was crying openly now. As she shuffled towards Felix, no submissive grace was left in her bearing. Our youngster threw uneasy glances at his sister and me. This evening had reached a level which had not been witnessed by him before. And he couldn’t understand why the tortured woman before him didn’t break.
He made the clamps click in rapid succession, and Patrizia did break, or so it seemed. Her hands left the back of her head and flew to her breasts. But she didn’t know what to do with them there, not being able to soothe her nipples, not daring to touch the terrible clamps. Her hands just hovered before her chest as she was thrashing her head about, pleading incoherently.
This was a crucial moment. I quickly approached her.
My words worked like a trigger.
“It hurts so much, sir!”
From both ends drops of blood had started to run along the chain links.
“You have almost made it. Now make me proud, Triz.”
Unbelievably enough she coped, put her hands back behind her head and interlocked her fingers.
“Please no, please!” she mouthed, but in the same second she straightened up and presented her breasts. I could literally see her heart ponding. She was distraught, exhausted, her eyes red and her voice hoarse.
“Would you please tighten the clamps on my nipples, sir?”
I drew this moment out just the tiniest bit, not to torment Triz but to let her experience her own courage, her amazing endurance.
The ratchets clicked simultaneously. Again those full mechanical clicks, combined to one double-sound. Triz screamed in agony. Fresh blood was pressed from her deeply pierced nipples. Triz kept screaming. Sinking to her knees, she brought her hand to her breasts again in an instinct-driven yet futile attempt to ease her distress. The woman convulsed violently, causing the clamps to dangle in wide arks and the chain flailing her sternum. It was hard to watch how these twistings and turnings were pumping even more extreme pain into her system. Yet she could not stop. Triz had lost all power over her body’s reaction. A few drops of urine hit the parquet floor.
In near panic her fingers searched the clamps for anything to reverse their horrible bite. I quickly grabbed her wrists.
“No, you don’t. Fetch the handcuffs.”
Felix found the requested items on the mantel. If there was anything more than enough of in this room, it was restrains. I secured her arms behind her back. That re-established some degree of control over Triz, who continued to wail and cry. Gwendolen joint us, up to no good. In one hand she was holding the harness gag. Triz didn’t fight the punitive ball as it filled her mouth. She didn’t want to be gagged; she wanted to scream out her suffering. But it was clinically impossible for her to scream and resist her gagging at the same time. Gwendolen had lowered herself behind the girl and was buckling up the various straps of the head harness. The huge ball gag wouldn’t leave Triz’ mouth any time soon.
“That’s better. I’m prone to migraine.”
Patrizia had calmed down somewhat, the muffled howls slowly turning into muffled sobs. She was still on the very verge of losing it again, but she had regained her sense of obedience. Finished with the head harness, Gwendolen slung her arms around the naked form before her. Careful not to become entangled with the chain she raked Triz’ breasts with her iconic witch nails.
I hunched down as well, albeit in front of the girl. From my pocket I had produced a small yet complex key. It fit into each clamp’s corpus and locked both the ratchet itself and its quick release. The heavy-duty clamps were now physically bolted onto Triz. This realisation triggered a new wave of anguish from behind the strict gag. I dangled the key before her pleading eyes, then handed it over to Gwendolen.
“She has soiled the floor; I trust you discipline her for this affront.”
“It will be my pleasure…”
To the random observer Gwendolen appeared to be a cultivated if eccentric lady, but her sadism was utterly delightful. The pain marathon Triz had experienced had been but a mere warm-up sprint. Now she owed Gwendolen, something she should have avoided at all costs. What was in store for her I knew not, but whatever my raven-haired guest had in mind would be far more sophisticated than the recent ordeal – and far less endurable.