Of course, she makes you guess the language too. But that's a whole other bag of worms.
For now....
Guess the Safe Word
Abigail bit her lip when the crop hit
her skin. She whimpered in pain and clenched her eyes shut as slap
after slap tore into her. She focused on not biting through her lip
and tried to wrack her brain for the right word.
“Is it 'Jester'?”
He laughed at her. “No.”
“Can I ask a question about it?”
He stepped into her field of view and
gave her a wicked smile. “If you do,” he said, “I get to give
you five surface piercings.”
She sighed and nodded. “Question
first.”
He nodded. “Of course.” It's not
like she could go anywhere if she changed her mind.
“Is it a noun or a verb?”
“A noun,” he said. Then he stepped
out of her view again.
Abigail whimpered when she felt the
alcohol swab, winced when he pinched her back, let out a long groan
as she felt him slide the needle in, along her skin, and back out.
“House?” she asked.
“Nope.”
He stuck a second needle in. This one
felt like it was the size of a steel rebar, and maybe twenty feet
long. She winced at the crunching sound as it poked its way free of
her skin.
“Car?”
He laughed. “Not even close.”
The third needle went in, out, and
then back in, leaving a bit of needle exposed as it crossed over her
spine before plunging back in. He put the next two in just
underneath, like he was sewing a corset in her skin.
He fairly skipped back around to the
front, crouched down below her, looking up at her with that same
sadistic smile. “If I can whip your back, you can ask another
question.”
She shifted, feeling the needles in
her back. It made her wince. But she nodded.
“First the whip,” he said, holding
up a hand to stop her from asking. His eyes darted to her clenched
fist, made sure the red cloth was still in there. Then he skipped
away.
The first hit was a hard one, and she
screamed from the pain. It felt like the needles were being ripped
out through her skin, the hard way. Like he was hitting her with a
bat, bending the needles while they were still inside her. The next
hit was also hard, but he dragged the flogger down her back after
hitting her, letting her feel the individual strands of leather as
they slid along. It made her twitch, which made the needles hurt all
the more.
“Parrot?”
He didn't answer. He just hit her
again. She whimpered and let out a bit of a sob. She looked up at her
hand and came close to opening it. But she didn't. She could handle
this. She could handle whatever he wanted to throw at her.
Another hit, and Abigail was sure that
he was, in fact, bending the
needles that were already through her skin. She felt them pulling at
her skin, and imagined it standing up, as if it was starting to peel
away from her body. Not a pleasant image.
“Banana?”
He
laughed again. “Wait your turn,” he said. “And no.”
He
hit her a few more times, then ran his hand gently down her back,
flicking at the needles and making them twitch inside her. She made a
gasp of pain, and saw stars. The stars cleared and he was there, in
front of her, still smiling.
“Person,
place, or thing?” She asked.
He
scratched his chin for a few seconds. Then he bent over and picked up
a needle, opened its sterile packaging. “Person,” he said. Then
he started scratching at her
chin with the needle.
She
whimpered and tried not to move. It felt like a cat scratch, or like
a tattoo needle. Only not nearly as bad. He was slow, he was careful.
Probably didn't even break the skin. He slowly dragged the needle
down her body, scraping bit by bit, watching her squirm. Laughing at
her pain.
Abigail
tried to hold on, tried to ignore the sensation, focusing instead on
the pain in her back.
Then
he pierced her nipple with the needle and left it there.
When
she was able to breathe again, he was gone, back behind her again. He
laughed, mocking.
“I
told you it would look good,” he said.
Abigail
looked down at her left breast, at the needle sicking through her
nipple. He wasn't wrong, but she didn't want to admit it. “Is it
Arthur?”
“No,”
he said, pushing a speculum up between her legs. She groaned as he
opened it, forcing her wider than could possibly be comfortable. “But
it is a name.”
“I
didn't ask.”
“And
I won't make you pay for it,” he said. Then she felt him pushing
something up inside her. Something that felt a lot sharper than it
was.
She
knew what he was putting inside her. When he showed it to her, she'd
asked what it was. It looked like a spiked blowfish. He assured her
it was sterile, even dunking it in rubbing alcohol while she could
still watch. She'd squeezed it in her hand first, and so she knew
first hand that the spines weren't sharp enough to do any real
damage.
But
as he pushed it up inside her, she wondered. She worried.
When
he took out the speculum, letting her close up around the spikes, she
screamed.
“Brian?”
“Nope.”
“Jeff?”
“Way
off.”
He
gave her ass a quick slap. She jerked, and the thing inside her
stabbed more forcefully.
“Guinevere?”
“Better,”
he said. “But still wrong.”
She
heard him snicker, and was about to ask why, when the thing inside
her started to vibrate. She moaned in pleasure even as she winced at
the pain.
She
was getting dizzy as the sensations flowed all over her. She fought
against the desire to just float on the sensations. She knew she
needed to focus. Needed to guess.
“Lancelot?”
He
poked the sole of her feet with a bundle of bamboo shoots. Not sharp
enough to pierce skin, but that didn't stop them from hurting.
“Wrong
story,” he said. Then he poked her again, dragged the bamboo along
her skin.
She
moaned again, then felt something cold on her ass. Cold and liquid.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “Please no.”
He
laughed. “Now you're way off track,” he said.
He
slid the tip of his cock into her ass, and she groaned. The thing
inside her kept vibrating, but had less space to move around in. It
felt like she was being shredded from the inside.
He
pushed in a bit harder, going a bit deeper.
“Cinderella!”
she shouted.
He
pushed farther, and she felt like she was being shredded and
torn apart.
“Nope.”
He
flicked the needles in her skin. She screamed. Almost let go of the
cloth.
“Grimm.”
He
twisted one of the needles, just a tiny bit. She screamed again and
began to sob.
Then
he pushed in deeper, and turned the toy up to a higher setting. It
felt like the world was soaring around her, offering her a chance to
float if she would only let go. If she would just let herself ride
the endorphins.
She
almost did. She almost gave up right then and there. But he laughed.
He laughed, and she knew she couldn't just give in.
He
pushed deeper into her ass, almost all the way in. Deep enough that
there would be no point in making him stop. He slid out a bit, then
pushed in again. She groaned. He grunted.
The
name had to be important. Had to matter. When was a name important?
Guessing
Grimm had upset him. He wasn't taunting her anymore; didn't want to
give her any more clues.
He
pulled out and pushed all the way in. She yelped, and knew that she
couldn't stop him anymore.
The
deal was that she had three hours. Three hours to guess. Why was that
important? Why did that matter?
He
slapped her ass, making her whole body shake, making the pain scream
at her from all over.
He
flicked the needles, one by one, then twisted the one in her nipple.
She felt it turning inside, but that didn't add to the pain. It was
just a sensation. Just a spinning needle.
Spinning
needle.
She
laughed.
He
stopped moving. “What is it?”
“Rumpelstiltskin,”
she said. “It's Rumpelstiltskin.”
She
felt his lips on the back of her neck as he kissed her, as he pulled
himself out of her ass.
“That's
right,” he said. “That's the safe word. Good guess.”
She
dropped her head, let the endorphins take over, let herself just
experience the sensation.
“Not
a guess,” she said, her voice dreamy and far away. “Good hints.”
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