We’re not doing lessons or magickal work tonight, so I have my voice back.
“Can you please reposition my wrists?” I ask. “I want to be able to hold you.”
“Later. I’d like to keep you fully stretched, for the time being.”
He gets up from the futon to rummage in the dresser drawer, eventually pulling up a silvery-looking chain with little black things on the ends of it.
“What’s that?”
“Something I hadn’t got around to trying out on you yet.”
He drapes the chain across my chest and starts fiddling with one of the ends of the chain. I feel it slide onto my left n****e; then he tightens it. He proceeds to do the same thing to my right n****e.
“These are, as you can see, adjustable. They’re also a relatively innocuous iteration, as far as n****e clamps go. They have to be screwed manu
