What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [61]
The wine had just hit her and she went light-headed. Chain her to the wall? But when Serena tugged, she followed—what else could she do?
Say Susan B. Anthony, a little voice in the back of her mind answered.
But a submissive slave wouldn’t even think about saying it.
Never use your safeword out of fear.
And this is only fear. Calm down. It will all be okay.
She stood obediently, trying to relax her breathing, as Serena pushed her back to the wall directly across from Brent, from which chains protruded at various heights. Serena secured one of the chains to her collar, after which she removed the leash. Then she hooked chains to each of the cuffs on Jenna’s wrists. Thankfully, their length left plenty of room to move around if she chose—but she still felt trapped. Why on earth did that make her pussy spasm?
“Get her tits out,” Brent commanded then, making Jenna flinch atop her impossibly high heels. “But be careful—she’s wearing nipple rings.”
With movements still as smooth as silk, Serena reached up to draw down the leather cups covering Jenna’s breasts. And there she was, as topless as Serena—and bottomless, too—in a room full of strangers.
And, of course, her breasts, nipples, remained sensitive and aroused from the rings—and a glance toward Brent told her he knew it. “The nipple rings suit you, slave.”
Jenna wasn’t sure how to reply. “Thank you,” she answered feebly.
“Master,” Serena whispered next to her.
“Huh?”
“Thank you, master,” she said softly. “You must always address him as master.”
“Thank you, master,” Jenna repeated, but the words came out light, barely audible, because this felt so strange.
“Attach a nipple chain, Serena,” he instructed, and while Jenna waited to see what the hell that was, she realized her breasts were heaving a bit—still from nervousness, but also from the stark arousal she’d been suffering. Nothing here should be arousing her—and nothing was, mentally—but after so much unanswered lust, her body seemed to be responding to the hard sexual aura of the setting: the clothes she wore; the men and women staring at her breasts and pussy right now; and knowing that whatever Brent wanted to give her here, she had to take. Unless she ended it all with the safeword. She’d decided unequivocally not to use it, but this fantasy had her reconsidering that.
Serena returned from a nearby cabinet with a much smaller chain in hand—thank God—than those that held Jenna to the wall. Carefully, she slid one link at the end of the silver chain onto the overlapping end of one nipple ring, then repeated the process at the other breast, leaving the length to dangle in a semicircle between Jenna’s boobs. Glancing down, she noticed black beads decorating the chain, like a necklace—except it hung from her nipples.
“What’s it for?” she asked Serena.
“Did I give you permission to speak, slave?” Brent boomed from his chair.
Jenna flinched, but no one else seemed surprised. “Um, no,” she managed timidly.
“You do not speak unless spoken to. You are here for my pleasure, to do my bidding—nothing more. Do you understand that?”
She swallowed nervously around the lump rising in her throat and forced a nod. She couldn’t speak at will? That made her uncomfortable.
“Serena,” he said, still sounding brusque, “you may tell the new slave the purposes of the nipple chain.”
Serena looked to Jenna and said, “Two purposes. It looks sexy. And this.” She reached up, curled the tip of her index finger under the dangling chain, and gave a light tug.
Which sent a burst of sensation that straddled the line between pleasure and pain shooting through Jenna’s breasts and outward. “Ooooh,” she sobbed lightly, noting the dark amusement on Serena’s face.
After this, Brent left his chair, moving in a leisurely manner, not meeting her gaze as he walked past to take something from the wall at her left. Then he came to stand in front of her—looking frighteningly handsome tonight, she realized—holding on to a tool which she recognized,