The orgasm had been building. I was at the edge. He was above me, looking down. Those details don’t matter. That’s not what this is about.
I was wearing those clamps. The clover clamps.
The orgasm had been building.
“Yes,” he said, answering the question asked wordlessly with my eyes and a whimper.
My eyes closed. I didn’t see it coming.
The orgasm exploded, followed by the burning, searing pain of my left nipple’s release from the clamps I’d all but forgotten were there. My eyes shoot open. His eyes, staring down at me, drinking of my reaction.
I can feel it now as I recall it. Fuck.
Fuck.
And then he moved his hand to the second clamp, still secured to my right nipple.
“No, No, No…” The words came out and I knew I didn’t mean them. Still riding the wave of that orgasm, I wanted the pain. I craved it.
I saw his hesitation. I don’t say “no.”
My eyes locked on his.
“Yes. Please.”
Fuck.
polyammering 