They’ve put tightly-stretched clamps on her nipples and clit, and this is her sentence:
“We’ll be listening upstairs. Watching. When you’ve been silent for fifteen consecutive minutes, we’ll let you out.” He grinned. “Then, the real fun begins.”
He and Lin turned, walked out of the room arm in arm.
Brandy gritted her teeth. She could do this. She could stand the pain for fifteen minutes. Couldn’t she?
There was a clock on the wall. She resisted the urge to watch it. She turned her head.
The glass cabinet stood against the wall to her right, so she began studying its contents.
Bad idea. The first object that jumped out at her was a metal instrument with a serrated wheel attached to it. The second looked like a rounded vent brush, but it was made of stainless steel, and the short “bristles” were stiff wires. She turned away quickly.
Which jostled her shoulders, which shook her breasts, which pulled against the clamps, which caused her to cry out.
She closed her eyes.
That was worse, because then, all she had was the pain. It thrummed through her, like some great beast’s heartbeat.
Her clit burned. She shifted, trying to create slack in the lines. Screamed as the chain at her groin pulled even tighter. This was “mild” punishment?
“Get the hell down here!” She screamed. Everything was so delicately poised, even speaking jostled her tortured clit, bringing tears to her eyes. “Let me out, damn it! I changed my mind!”
No one came. Brandy sobbed, each shake sending a fresh wave of pain through her nipples. She screamed inarticulately. Screamed again. Drew in great, sobbing breaths and screamed again.
And felt tension draining from her trussed limbs. She shrugged her shoulders, wiggled her hips, let the tears flow with each fresh pang, and felt tension ebb.
She screamed again, long and loud.
Laughed again when she realized that even that hurt.
She was becoming hysterical. That wouldn’t do.
From Branded by Rachel Bo.