and moved to the tray. She watched him carefully as he lifted the plate of shrimp, then came back to her.
“Didn"t your mother teach you it was dangerous to eat when you"re lying down?”
She shivered as he trailed a piece of shrimp over her nipple, then jumped when he dumped the entire plateful on her stomach.
Her movement pulled on her rings, and she gasped. “Just so you know, I attached the chain to a little hook in the table. I made sure it was nice and taut, so anytime you move it will pull on your rings. Really, you should just lie still.”
“But…”
“Since you didn"t want to eat, I"m going to, and I"m going to use you as my table.”
He walked back over to the table and picked up the plate full of brown goo. She watched him walk toward her, trailing his finger through it. He lifted it to his mouth, licked at the substance.
“Chocolate. Yummy.” He scooped out a handful and put a little bit on each breast.
The food was cold, and she moved slightly. Her rings pulled again, making her groan.
The feeling was half pain, half pleasure, and heightened by the cold from the food.
How could she have been so stupid as to turn down one of her favorite foods? “It didn"t look like chocolate.”
58
Melinda Barron
“Looks can be deceiving.” He went back to the tray, picked up the other plate of food she didn"t recognize. “Hummus.”
“Of course. Chickpeas and yogurt.” She groaned loudly as he tipped the plate over her pussy. The frigid food slid over her mons, and she arched her back, pulling yet again on her rings. “Ouch.” She lay back down, trying not to move as the cold seeped into her body.
“You really should do as I say. I wrapped the chain around the rings several times, to provide maximum pull when you moved.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.” She clasped the edges of the table with her hands in an effort to stay still. It was hard, though, since he was now trailing his fingers through the hummus, moving it onto her stomach and thighs.
He went back to the tray several times, decorating her body with vegetables, chicken, crab, and steak before picking up a fork. “Dinnertime.”
Clarissa watched him as he perched on the edge of the table, lowering the fork toward her stomach. Her breath came in short, wispy gasps as he pushed it into a piece of shrimp. She felt the pressure but no sting from the tines as he speared his food. He lifted the morsel to his mouth and popped it inside, chewing slowly.
“Cocktail sauce,” he said around a mouthful. He walked back to the tray, picked up the sauce, and then dumped it over the shrimp on her stomach. The cool liquid seemed to seep into her bones as he speared another shrimp and dragged it through the red paste. He took a bite and nodded his approval.
“Much better.” She wiggled as he stabbed something else, the tine of the fork pressing against her skin. The pull from the chain intensified as she wiggled, and she groaned. “Does the pain, even the slightest bit of it, feel good or bad?”
Clarissa watched him eat a piece of steak, her mouth watering. Strangely enough, the pain felt good. She wasn"t sure she wanted to tell him that, though. How would he use that information?
She groaned loudly as he trailed the fork through the hummus, the tines sliding along her slit. “Answer me.”
“Feels good.” She closed her eyes as the tip of the fork slid into her slit, sliding along her soft inner folds. The movement made her body stir in ways she"d never felt before, her clit jumping as if to beg for a taste of the metal utensil. He used his free hand to widen her lips, then lightly pricked her pussy with the fork. The stabs weren"t painful, and they certainly didn"t pierce her skin. What they did was make her want to beg for more.
He continued his prodding, never once touching the fork against her clit. She arched into him several times, the movement causing the same pulling sensation on her clit and nipples. Wetness flooded her, and she
“Didn"t your mother teach you it was dangerous to eat when you"re lying down?”
She shivered as he trailed a piece of shrimp over her nipple, then jumped when he dumped the entire plateful on her stomach.
Her movement pulled on her rings, and she gasped. “Just so you know, I attached the chain to a little hook in the table. I made sure it was nice and taut, so anytime you move it will pull on your rings. Really, you should just lie still.”
“But…”
“Since you didn"t want to eat, I"m going to, and I"m going to use you as my table.”
He walked back over to the table and picked up the plate full of brown goo. She watched him walk toward her, trailing his finger through it. He lifted it to his mouth, licked at the substance.
“Chocolate. Yummy.” He scooped out a handful and put a little bit on each breast.
The food was cold, and she moved slightly. Her rings pulled again, making her groan.
The feeling was half pain, half pleasure, and heightened by the cold from the food.
How could she have been so stupid as to turn down one of her favorite foods? “It didn"t look like chocolate.”
58
Melinda Barron
“Looks can be deceiving.” He went back to the tray, picked up the other plate of food she didn"t recognize. “Hummus.”
“Of course. Chickpeas and yogurt.” She groaned loudly as he tipped the plate over her pussy. The frigid food slid over her mons, and she arched her back, pulling yet again on her rings. “Ouch.” She lay back down, trying not to move as the cold seeped into her body.
“You really should do as I say. I wrapped the chain around the rings several times, to provide maximum pull when you moved.”
“Yeah, I noticed that.” She clasped the edges of the table with her hands in an effort to stay still. It was hard, though, since he was now trailing his fingers through the hummus, moving it onto her stomach and thighs.
He went back to the tray several times, decorating her body with vegetables, chicken, crab, and steak before picking up a fork. “Dinnertime.”
Clarissa watched him as he perched on the edge of the table, lowering the fork toward her stomach. Her breath came in short, wispy gasps as he pushed it into a piece of shrimp. She felt the pressure but no sting from the tines as he speared his food. He lifted the morsel to his mouth and popped it inside, chewing slowly.
“Cocktail sauce,” he said around a mouthful. He walked back to the tray, picked up the sauce, and then dumped it over the shrimp on her stomach. The cool liquid seemed to seep into her bones as he speared another shrimp and dragged it through the red paste. He took a bite and nodded his approval.
“Much better.” She wiggled as he stabbed something else, the tine of the fork pressing against her skin. The pull from the chain intensified as she wiggled, and she groaned. “Does the pain, even the slightest bit of it, feel good or bad?”
Clarissa watched him eat a piece of steak, her mouth watering. Strangely enough, the pain felt good. She wasn"t sure she wanted to tell him that, though. How would he use that information?
She groaned loudly as he trailed the fork through the hummus, the tines sliding along her slit. “Answer me.”
“Feels good.” She closed her eyes as the tip of the fork slid into her slit, sliding along her soft inner folds. The movement made her body stir in ways she"d never felt before, her clit jumping as if to beg for a taste of the metal utensil. He used his free hand to widen her lips, then lightly pricked her pussy with the fork. The stabs weren"t painful, and they certainly didn"t pierce her skin. What they did was make her want to beg for more.
He continued his prodding, never once touching the fork against her clit. She arched into him several times, the movement causing the same pulling sensation on her clit and nipples. Wetness flooded her, and she
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