Nipple Clamp Quotes

Michael looked embarrassed. “No, I don’t really… I mean in real life, I don’t do that. I read BDSM once in a while, but honestly, I prefer the sweeter romances.” “Sure. I believe you. Bondage Ben.” “Stop it.” Michael laughed. “Cracky McCracken.” James flicked an invisible whip. “I am not! I’m more like Nick Normal.” “Nipple Clamp Ned.” “Vince Vanilla.” James gave him a dubious look and snorted. “I doubt that very much.” Michael shrugged with an evil little smile. “Well, maybe not entirely vanilla.

Toys like handcuffs, paddles, and nipple clamps?” Andrew arched a brow. “Or flavored lube, anal plugs, and edible panties?

And you decided that it was nice knowing me? Do you mean knowing me in the biblical sense?” Oh, shit. I flush. “I didn’t think you were familiar with the Bible.” “I went to Sunday school, Anastasia. It taught me a great deal.” “I don’t remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible. Perhaps you were taught from a modern translation.” His lips arch with a trace of a smile, and my eyes are drawn to his mouth. “Well, I thought I should come and remind you how nice it was knowing me.

Terrific! Have you done Step Three?" He waggled his brows as he opened up the top left drawer of my dresser. "No. Hey! Do you mind, Nosy Newton?" "Are these panties?" he asked, holding up two of my thongs. "Because they look like dental floss to me." Oh my God. My almost father-in-law was digging around in my lingerie. Embarrassment bloomed in my face. "Ruadan, get out of my underwear!" "Fine," he said, closing the left drawer and opening the right one. "Oh! Lookie here!" "If you touch that box," I said menacingly, "I will cut off your head with your own swords. And I'm not talking about the one on your shoulders." He laughed, shutting the drawer. "You won't need a vibrator anymore. You've got Patrick." His gaze slid toward the dresser. "Unless you have different toys in there. Nipple clamps?" "I… what… oh God." I fell onto the bed, curled into the fetal position, and covered my face.

I don't remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible. Perhaps you were taught from a modern translation.

Sure. Great. Now I know her name. At least it’s not Cinnamon the whore-faced, nipple clamped, smelly vag—” “Laura Beck. My sister.

I felt latex-covered fingers gently move my arm to my side. I felt a metal contraption clamp down firmly, but not painfully, onto my right nipple. Then I heard Knight’s deep voice say, “Three… two…” just before a white-hot pain slashed through my soul.

He let his fingers tease her until she uttered soft cries. Stella spread her legs further and wider as his hand explored, touched, and pleasured every part of her womanhood. She untied her outer bodice and lifted her breasts so they spilled from her corset. Her hands rubbed and played with her nipples. She knew what excited Bartolomeo. He continued to pleasure her while she touched herself, and he stroked his erection until he was near to bursting. Finally, he pulled her forward and slid into her, and her exclamation was louder than either of them expected. She clamped a hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. He did not release her. Instead, he slowed his motion, and once he felt sure no one could have heard them, he began to rock against her, deeper and harder. The bed began to creak, but he was lost in the depths of his desire. When she reached her climax, her cries more urgent and sustained, he lost control and spilled into her, his hips bucking a few more times. His legs threatened to give way with pleasure and exhaustion.

Soft. She was so soft, and warm. So giving as she moved with him. Rising to take him in, the covers shrouding her back as she arched. His lips clasped her nipple and she cried out, her fingernails dragging down his hips. She clamped around him. Squeezing. Taking. Giving more.

Gabe? Are you listening to me? Gabe?” “Huh?” Her hands go to her hips. “I said, are you listening to me.” “Honestly, no. I can see your nipples through your top, and it’s really distracting.” “Oh my God!” she screeches as she clamps her arms over her chest. She jumps to her feed. “You-you crude, rude pervert!” My eyes follow her up. God, just look at that tight little body. “Hey. I’m not the one showing my tits off.

Somehow she willed enough strength back into her knees to satisfy him, and she moaned as he began to thrust more powerfully and deeply than ever before. Each inward drive was a sensuous jolt, lifting her heels from the floor. She breathed and sweated and pushed back at him, the feelings rising thickly to a crescendo. The repeated wet impacts of their flesh embarrassed and excited her, and there was nothing she could do about any of it; she had lost all hope of control. One of his hands slid to the triangle between her thighs, caressing her pulsing flesh, while the other went to her breast and clamped the nipple gently between his thumb and finger. That was all she needed. She pressed her clenched fists against the door and cried out repeatedly, in ecstasy that sounded like anguish. Satisfaction rushed and ebbed, back and forth, in heavy waves that soon broke into shudders. She really couldn't stand then, her limbs quaking, and he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. Before her body had even settled completely on the bed, he was in her again, thrusting almost savagely, reaching beneath her hips to pull her up into each plunge.

He made her feel out of kilter, wholly off-balance. The other night in his arms, it had felt so good to lean on him, if only for a while. To forget the load she had borne for so long now. And she could see it, God help her, she could, an erotic vision that ran through her mind, filled her world; her hands running over his shoulders- dark and burnished as his face. His form, long and muscular and naked, all fluid masculinity as he raised himself above her. Heat seemed to gather at the place between her thighs. Her breasts were swelling, as if her nipples sought to stab through every layer of stiff, starched cloth. She knew that if she looked down- there would be no hiding the sight of her nipples standing pebbled and hard beneath her gown. She wanted to clamp her hands over them; better still, she wanted him to clamp those strong, masculine hands over them both and...

The second Ramón closed the door, he pushed Julieta against the wall. His hands gripped her waist, and he pulled off her bikini bottoms. He loved eating her pussy. "Ramón!" She was so wet. She moaned as he devoured her. Once she was right where he wanted her, Ramón stopped. He grabbed a condom, slipped it over his cock, and turned her around so her hands were against the wall. He removed her bikini top, then squeezed her incredible ass. She was naked except for her mesh coverup, which was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He rubbed her pussy again, and she was so wet, so ready for him. Ramón teased her with the tip of his cock. "Please, just fuck me." He slowly slid in and reached around and rubbed her clit. She moaned as she pressed her ass back against him. Ramón was in heaven inside her. He fucked her harder and harder, and she was so loud. "Ay, Dios mío. Don't stop." He squeezed her nipple while working her clit, until her pussy clamped around him. She came, and Ramón did, too.

Owen stepped into the saddle and reached a hand down as he took his foot out of the stirrup, so Bay could mount behind him. Once she was settled, he said, “Hang on. And don’t be wiggling around. We can’t afford any more accidents.” Bay glowered at him. She clamped her hands on either side of his waist at his beltline, but his Colt .45 was holstered on one side, which kept her from getting a comfortable hold. She put her right hand above the gun, but that meant it was practically under his armpit. Then she moved it below the gun, but that put her hand low on hips close to his crotch. “Sonofabitch.” He grabbed her hands and pulled them around his midriff. “Now hang on.” Bay kept her breasts rigidly distanced from Owen’s back, but her nipples puckered anyway. It was that damned washboard of male abdominal muscle under her hands. The man could do commercials for those workout machines they advertised on TV. The horseflies were a surprise. Where had they come from? She let go with one hand and swatted at one that seemed determined to bite her on the nose. And knocked Owen’s hat askew. “That does it. Off.” “It wasn’t my fault,” Bay said. “I was getting bitten.” “Off.” He grabbed her arm and levered her out from behind him and onto the ground.

A box sat on top of Jade’s pillows, wrapped in green paper with a white bow. He frowned slightly. Who would’ve left a gift on Jade’s bed? “You have a present.” “What?” Jade turned her head when he gestured toward the box. Confusion filled her eyes. She sat up and reached for the box. “I don’t understand.” Zach sat by her again and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Maybe there’s a card.” After searching beneath the large white bow, Jade pulled out a small envelope. Zach looked over her shoulder as she withdrew the card and read it aloud. “‘To Mom and Zach. Have fun tonight. Bre.’” Zach chuckled, both at Breanna’s card and at Jade’s blush. “Your daughter has quite a sense of humor.” “My daughter deserves to be spanked.” She lifted the box onto her lap. “I’m afraid to open it.” “Would you like me to? It’s addressed to both of us.” “I’m even more afraid for you to open it.” “Go ahead. It can’t be that bad.” “You don’t know my daughter.” Untying the bow, Jade raised the lid and pulled apart the bright green tissue paper. Several sex toys lay in the box. She gasped. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe she did this!” She started to push the tissue paper back over the contents, but Zach held her hand to stop her. “Wait. Let’s see what she bought.” “I am going to kill her, after I beat her.” Chuckling, Zach dug through the box, lifting the different items as he came to them. “Cock ring. Chocolate body paint. Stay-hard gel.” He looked into Jade’s eyes. “I don’t think I’ll need that tonight.” Her cheeks turned a deep pink. He dropped a kiss on her lips before beginning to explore again. “Anal beads. Ben-Wa balls. Fur-lined handcuffs. Nipple clamps. Lemon-flavored nipple cream.” His gaze dipped to her breasts. “Interesting.” She huffed out a breath. “Can we close the box now?” “Not yet. I like it when you blush.” Zach grinned when Jade scowled at him. “This is completely spoiling the mood.” “I won’t have any problem getting hard again.” “Zach!” Ignoring her outraged tone, he continued to sift through the items. “Lifelike dildo.” He held it up to eye level. “Close, but not quite as big as I am.” Jade covered her eyes with one hand. “I don’t believe this,” she muttered. “Butt plug. Wait, I’m wrong. It’s a vibrating butt plug. Very interesting. I hope you have batteries. Never mind. Breanna included several packages.” “Okay, that’s enough.” Jade tried to jerk the box out of his reach, but Zach held on to the side. “There’re only a couple more items. We might as well see what they are.” “I don’t care what they are.” “You might care about one of them.” Zach held up a large box of condoms. “Oh.” He turned the box in his hand. “I’m flattered, but I don’t think I’ll be able to use one hundred of these tonight.” “One hundred?” “All different types, sizes, and colors.” Jade laughed. “Oh, Bre.” She pushed her hair behind one ear. “What’s the last thing?” “Cherry-flavored lubricant. It looks like she thought of everything.” “You must think my daughter is crazy.” “I think your daughter loves you very much and wants you to be happy.” “That’s true. But we won’t use all this…stuff.” “Who says we won’t?

Hungrily, Nick pulled her with him into the hot rain of the shower-bath. Turning her face out of the stream of water, Lottie rested her head on his shoulder, standing passively as his hands slid over her body. Her breasts were small but plump in his hands, the nipples turning hard in the clasp of his fingers. He shaped his hands over her unrestricted waist, the swell of her hips, her round backside... caressing her everywhere, moving her against the engorged length of his sex. Moaning, she parted her thighs in compliance with his exploring hand, pushing her delicate flesh against his stroking thumb. As he entered her with his fingers, she gasped and instinctively relaxed at the gentle penetration. He caressed her, stroking in deep, secret places that brought her to the brink of climax. When she was ready to come, he lifted her against the tiled wall, one arm beneath her hips, the other behind her back. She made a sound of surprise and clung to him, her eyes widening as he pushed his cock inside her. Her flesh closed tightly around him, swallowing every inch of his shaft as he let her settle against him. "I've got you," he murmured, her slippery body locked securely in his arms. "Don't be afraid." Breathing fast, she rested her head back against his arm. With the hot water falling against his back, and the lush female body impaled on his, every lucid thought promptly evaporated. He filled her in heavy upward surges, again and again, until she cried out and clamped around him in luxurious contractions. Nick held still, feeling her quiver around him, the depths of her body becoming almost unbearably snug. Her spasms seemed to pull him deeper, drawing waves of pleasure from his groin, and he shuddered as he spent inside her.

Her hands slipped down to his chest, the firm surface covered with a light fleece of coarse golden hair. With his body still joined to hers, St. Vincent held still beneath her inquisitive fingers. She touched his lean sides, exploring the hard vaulting of his ribs and the satiny plane of his back. His blue eyes widened, and then he dropped his head to the pillow beside hers, growling as his body worked inside hers with a deep thrust, as he was helplessly shaken with new tremors of rapture. His mouth fastened on hers with a primal greed. She opened her legs wider, pulled at his back to urge more of his weight on her, trying in spite of the pain to tug him deeper, harder. Braced on his elbows to keep from crushing her, he rested his head on her chest, his breath hot and light as it fanned over her nipple. The bristle of his cheek stung her skin a little, the sensation causing the tips of her breasts to contract. His sex was still buried inside her, though it had softened. He was silent but awake, his eyelashes a silky tickle against her skin. Evie remained quiet as well, her arms encircling his head, her fingers playing in his beautiful hair. She felt the weight of his head shift, the wet heat of his mouth seeking her nipple. His lips fastened over it, and his tongue slowly traced the outer edge of the gathered aureole, around and around until he felt her stirring restlessly beneath him. Keeping the tender bud inside his mouth, he licked steadily, sweetly, while desire ignited her breasts and her stomach and loins, and the soreness dissolved in a fresh wave of need. Intently he moved to the other breast, nibbling, stroking, seeming to feed on her pleasure. He levered upward enough to allow his hand to slide between them, and his cunning fingers slid into the wet nest of hair, finding the tingling feminine crest and teasing skillfully. She felt herself sliding into another climax, her body clamping voluptuously on the hot flesh that was insinuated deep inside her.

Having weathered the storm once, she embraced it and gloried in it, thrilled to be wanted with such unwavering intent, with such concerted focus, with such... adoration. Despite the passion driving him, despite the desire that had hardened his body, that infused every caress with a driven edge, behind all was a care that never wavered. A care that had him holding back, his breathing as ragged as hers, his kiss every bit as desperate, until his clever fingers sent her wits spinning from this world and submerged her senses in indescribable pleasure. Only then did he shift, pin her beneath him, and thrust into her. She gasped, arched beneath him, then moaned as he took advantage of her instinctive invitation and drove even deeper into her very willing body. She clamped around him and he paused, eyes closed, every muscle clenched and tight, on the cusp of quivering, then he drew in a labored breath, withdrew and thrust anew, and she lost touch with the world. And once again all she knew was the heat and the flames and the steady, relentless possession. The giddy pleasure and delight, and beneath and through it all threaded the elusive evidence of his loving. It was there in the catch of his breath when she shifted, rose beneath him and moved against him, letting the fascinatingly crinkly hair on his chest abrade her excruciatingly sensitive nipples. There in the way he slowed, metaphorically gripped her hand and drew her back from the brink so that she didn't rush ahead and end the pleasure all too soon, but instead caught her sensual breath and joined agin with him in that primitive and evocative dance. More all-consuming, all-absorbing. More intimate. Love was there in the guttural whispers of encouragement he fed her when she once more started that inexorable climb, when passion roared and she suddenly found it upon her, near and so intense. There in the way in which he held her, cradled her, all the while moving so relentlessly within her, stoking the flames, sending her senses careening. There in the moment when ecstasy claimed her and he held her close, and held still, muscles quivering with restraint, prolonging the moment until she wept with simple joy. There in the final helpless moment when he lost himself in her.

He caressed her skillfully, circling the point of delicate fire. Her buttocks lifted away from the hard length of his erection as her hips strained toward his hand. He brushed the swollen bud with the calloused tip of his thumb as he slid his middle finger inside her, until it was completely submerged in the luscious channel. Lottie's breath shortened, and her thighs clamped around his hand as he thrust and withdrew his finger in an easy rhythm. He felt her inner muscles tauten as she labored and twisted, fighting instinctively for release from the excruciating tension. Nick lowered his head to her breasts once more. The tips were taut and rosy now, and he blew against one of them softly before drawing it into his mouth. With his finger sunk inside her, and her nipples throbbing against his tongue, he experienced a triumph he had never known before. Lottie struggled helplessly as climax remained elusive, a moan of frustration escaping her.

nipple tug-of-war,” in which two people both put on nipple clamps with chains running from one person to the other and lean backwards so that both sets of tits get a nice steady pull, is a good example.

He says something to her, tweaks her nipple, and steps into the adjoined bathroom. Minutes pass, and I grow anxious. What is he doing? Fluffing his cock? Flossing his teeth? Maybe she keeps a bag of sex toys in there, and he’s debating between a Baby Jesus butt plug or shock therapy nipple clamps?

Bear fat for the burn. You will lie on your face.” Their gazes locked, laughter still shimmering in his. Seconds dragged by, measured by the wild thumping of her heart. He wanted to rub her down? Oh, God, what was she going to do? She clutched the fur more tightly. Hunter shrugged as if her defiance bothered him not at all and tossed down the pouch. “You are sure enough not smart, Blue Eyes. You will lie on your face,” he said softly. “Don’t fight the big fight. If my strong arm fails me, I will call my friends. And in the end, you will lie on your face.” Loretta imagined sixty warriors swooping down on her. As if he needed more of an advantage. Hatred and helpless rage made her tremble. Hunter watched her, his expression unreadable as he waited. She wanted to fly at him, scratching and biting. Instead she loosened her hold on the buffalo robe and rolled onto her stomach. As she pressed her face into the stench-ridden buffalo fur, tears streamed down her cheeks, pooling and tickling in the crevices at each side of her nose. She clamped her arms to her sides and lay rigid, expecting him to jerk back the robe. Shame swept over her in hot, rolling waves as she imagined all those horrible men looking at her. She felt the fur shift and braced herself. His greased palm touched her back and slid downward with such agonizing slowness that her skin shriveled and her buttocks quivered. So focused was she on his touch, on the shame of it, that several seconds passed before she realized he had slipped his arm beneath the fur, that no one, not even he, could see her. Relief, if she felt any at all, was short-lived, for he laved every inch of her back with grease and then tried to nudge her arms aside to get at the burned skin along her ribs. She resisted him, but in the end his strength won out. When his fingertips grazed the swell of her left breast, her lungs ceased working and her body snapped taut. He hesitated, then resumed the rubbing, diving his fingertips between her and the fur to graze her nipple. She wasn’t burned there, and she knew he pressed the issue only to drive home his point. She belonged to him, and he would touch her whenever and wherever he pleased. A sob caught in her throat. Once again she felt his hand pause. His gaze burned into the back of her head, tangible in its intensity. At last he withdrew his arm from under the fur and sat back. Loretta twisted her neck to look up at his dark face, not bothering to wipe away her tears, too defeated to care if he saw them. He set the leather pouch on the pallet beside her. For an instant she thought she glimpsed pity in his eyes. “You rub the rest, eh? And put yourself into the clothes.” With that, he rose, presented his broad back to her, and walked away to crouch by the only remaining fire. Loretta clutched the fur to her breasts and sat up, not quite able to believe he had left her alone to dress.

What would sweet, lovely, wounded Natalie think if I told her I want to tie her up, clamp her nipples, spank her sweet ass, and then watch her take a thick plug there. I want to fuck her senseless and watch her suck my dick while I flog her.

Mel was tugging at her T-shirt as Jack was handing her the baby. She held the baby’s cheek against her warm breast, running her fingers over his perfect head. The baby stopped crying and appeared to be looking around. Mel glanced up at Jack and gave him a little smile. “Come on, little guy,” she cooed, serene, totally focused on her son. “Do your job here. Stanch the bleeding, bring out the placenta.” She pinched her nipple to fit the baby’s mouth, trying to entice him with it. Jack felt a river of emotion run through him. He didn’t know if he was about to burst into song or faint. He dropped to his knees to be closer and watched Mel tickle the baby’s mouth and cheek with her nipple and then the baby turned his head instinctively and clamped on, took hold, suckled. And Mel said, “Oh, my! You’re very good at this.” Then she looked at Jack, who knelt by the bed, dazed. She smiled weakly and said, “Thank you, darling.” He leaned closer to her, his face next to his son’s head. “My God, Melinda,” he said in a breath. “What the hell did we just do?” *

And finally, Prophet slid inside him, skin to skin—and that never got old. Tom tensed at the first burn—Prophet was careful but not easy—and goddamn, it would be so easy to just come. He bit the comforter hard enough to make his jaw ache in an effort to stop himself. Prophet slapped his ass twice—firm swats that made him want to come even more, the fucker. And then Prophet took the clamps off simultaneously, and holy fuck, the rush of blood back to the nipples was a feeling so fused with his pain craving that it hit every single nerve in his body, like they were all ricocheting off his abused nipples. The pain forced Tom to move, and the only thing he could do semieffectively to get a feeling somewhere else besides the giant ache in his nipples was to rut back against Prophet until he heard the bed creak threateningly. “If we break this bed . . .” “I’ll buy you a new one,” Tom managed, because he was already seeing stars. “I just need you. Lije . . .” At that, Prophet came in hard, hot spurts, his body shuddering, his fingers digging into Tom hard enough to bruise. “Now, Tommy . . .” Tom didn’t have to hear it twice, came with a fierce orgasm that he knew would knock him out in seconds, his entire body one giant throb. It was surrender, complete and utter. It was everything. When

jerked so hard the move almost made them lose their connection. “Fuck!” Green felt the large muscles of Ruxs’ back grow ridged and tighten like he was on his one hundredth pull-up. God he fucking loved this man. Ruxs inhaled hard, took what was given him. Green kept the same intensity in his thrust, but he slowed the fucking down, made it precious. Ruxs made a sound like he was in pain. Large hands came up and grabbed a fist full of Green’s hair. Ruxs tightened his hold on him, now it was Green’s turn to make a painful sound. When Ruxs’ ass clamped down on his cock, Green dropped his head back to the pillow. He pinched harder and Ruxs’ body went still and then hard as stone. His come burst from him. Long streams of white lava erupted over Ruxs’ rippled stomach. He heard him, felt Ruxs growl and jolt with each release. Green barked a startled cry as his orgasm dug its claws in and roared through his core, to settle in his balls, consuming them with heat. He freed Ruxs’ tortured nipples and pulled the tight ass down on his cock, pressing it firmly into his pelvis just in time for his cock to thicken and shoot deep inside that throbbing channel. Deep enough for Ruxs to feel it in his soul. And he knew he did because the affectionately whispered, “Chris” that left his lover’s lips told him their bonding was sealed.

Tasha could take a lot of torture when she chose, from nipple clamps to floggers and even the occasional Lifetime movie marathon,

Despite your delusions to the contrary, swingers, by and large, are a civilized lot. We come in all ages, shapes, sizes, nationalities, and ethnicities. We have differing beliefs, varying opinions, IQs, and senses of humor. We have families, friends, careers, hobbies, mortgages, and retirement plans. In short, we’re just like everyone else. We don’t strap on leather chaps and nipple clamps to go about our day. Wearing kinks on our sleeves like badges of honor isn’t our style. Truth be told, we don’t talk that much about our dalliances—-at least not to Vanilla folk. We’re not ashamed. We simply assume most of the world doesn’t get our way of life. And more times than not, we’re right.

You’ve completely managed my life for the next twelve hours. Why do you have that ‘nipple-clamp’ expression on your face?

With the nipple clamps still dangling from her chest, she reaches for me.

Searching the nightstands by the bed, I turn up a collection of sex toys—vibrators, cock rings, clips, lubricants, massage oils, dildos, nipple rings and clamps, solid metal ben-wa balls in various sizes—again, nothing out of the ordinary.

You mentioned something about needing resuscitation?”  Her pussy quivered as she mentally visualized him breathing life into her kitty and easing the tension inside her.  Her knees buckled and she forced them to straighten.  Unable to find her voice she gave a quick, tight nod. He flashed her a bad-boy grin, and in a low, barely controlled voice, he said, “I believe a little mouth to mouth is in order.”  Mitch’s hand slipped between their bodies and cupped her passion-drenched sex.  Pleasure engulfed her and she nearly orgasmed right there, on the spot, all over his hand.  She clamped her thighs together and leaned into him, her nipples crushed into his chest and tightening to the point of pain.  She made a sexy noise and shifted.  He sank to his knees, and shot her a glance, all traces of humor gone from his eyes.  “Or, rather, a little mouth to kitty.”