Checklist J, K, L

As the sound of Grif’s footsteps grew louder, Davina pressed her hips back towards him. She was hoping he would touch her
again. Penetrate her again. Even better, fuck her.
His hand cupped her right ass cheek. His palms were broad and warm, his fingers digging in just the right amount. This wasn’t
petting or stroking. It was too firm and possessive for that.
This was her Master touching her. Preparing to use her.
Davina’s eyes, which had slid closed as she drifted towards that sweet, serene place, popped open.
Her Master?
No. She and Grif didn’t use that term. They were partners. If they had to use labels, he was the top—and even then not always.
She was the submissive partner, not the sub or the submissive.
Lost in her own thoughts, she was shocked when something blunt and cold touched her asshole.
“What’s that?” she yelped.
“The next piece of jewelry.”
The low, sexy rumble in his voice made her stomach muscles tighten with need. “I thought you weren’t going to use a jeweled
plug.” Her voice sounded breathless and needy, not at all like her normal self.
“I’m not. This isn’t a jeweled plug. Or, not just a jeweled plug.” Grif released her ass and circled around to stand in front of her.
His gaze slid up and down her naked body. “Straighten up. You’re arching your back, and you’ll get tired.”
She wasn’t just arching her back—she was arching it in order to stick her ass out. She wanted him to touch her, use her. That
was fine and normal—that was what their relationship was about, after all.
But holding a stress position would make a scene end more quickly. She knew better than to stick out her butt—to pose and
posture possibly at the expense of completing the plan or scene.
She pulled her hips forward, kneeling tall. That gave her some good slack on the rope and chain at her arms, so she rolled her
shoulders.
“How are you feeling?” Griff leaned in and inspected her wrists.

Davina stretched and nipped his chin. “Impatient.”
He jerked back, rubbing his chin. The corners of his eyes were crinkled with a smile. “Minx.”
The light caught the item he held in his other hand. She leaned a little to the right, trying to see.
Grif put his hand behind his back and grinned.
Davina took a deep breath.
His eyes dropped to her breasts.
Ha.
She knew what would come next. He’d say something teasing, or maybe he’d “punish” her with some rough breast play—a
gentle slap, nipple pinch. Something.
Grif’s gaze met hers.
Davina took another deep breath, but this time it wasn’t an attempt to make him look, to tempt him. It was a gasp of shock.
Grif’s eyes seemed to glitter with...anger? Determination? He was beetle-browed, his mouth set in a hard line.
He took the toy from behind his back, holding it up so she could see it.
It was a plug, but it wasn’t. Rather than a tapered bulb, narrow neck, and flared base, this plug was a metal ball, four inches of
large-link chain, and a round metal disk. The disk, which would serve as the base, was encrusted with rhinestones, and had a
large O ring set into it.
Davina looked up, trying to catch Grif’s gaze, but he was looking at the center of her forehead.
Was he really angry? Why would he be?
Because you’re not being a good sub. You’re trying to top from the bottom. You weren’t showing off your breasts because you
wanted him to know how willing you were to be used and played with. You wanted to make sure you could still make him do
things. You wanted him to look because you wanted to be in control.
And he realized what you were doing.

Davina’s teeth clenched.
Grif’s fingers closed around the strange plug. “Hips back. Tell me if your shoulders start to hurt.”
Then he was gone from her line of sight, circling around behind her. Part of her wanted to turn her head and look at him, watch
him. It was the same part of her that felt ashamed for what she’d done.
She stared resolutely forward, arching her upper body and lifting her ass until her shoulder and back muscles strained.
Her ass cheeks were pushed apart, his fingers and thumb holding her open. The defiance and defensiveness that made her jaw
tight started to thaw.
The cold ball of the plug—which felt massive as it glided up and down the crack of her ass—was intimidating in the best way.
Grif centered it on her anus. Without a taper it just sat against the ring of muscle. There was no tip to ease it in.
“I’ve prepped your ass,” he told her in a cold voice. “You will take the ball all at once. If you tense up and try and keep it out, I will
force it in.”
That was both terrifying and so arousing that her pussy clenched in reaction. Her pussy lips were so slick with her body’s natural
lubricant that every time she shifted even a little, she could feel her labia sliding against each other. She knew that by this point
her inner thighs were probably wet, too.
“I expect you to relax.” He moved the hand holding her ass open, instead laying it on the small of her back, a warm, firm
presence. “I expect you to take this into your ass.”
“Yes.” The word “master” was right there, waiting to be used. She held it back. “I will. I...want it,” she added.
“Relax.”
The cold ball pressed against her, but didn’t enter. Instead the pressure pushed her hips forward. She didn’t have enough
leverage to push back against the brute force of this.
“I can’t,” she stammered.
“You will.” Grif slid one arm under her, his forearm braced at the bend of her upper thighs and hips. “Trust me.
“I do.”

The ball pressed against her again. Hard and huge and seemingly flat. His forearm was like a steel beam under her. A rock and
a hard place? No, her master’s arm and the huge plug, that was where she was stuck. She no longer had any control of her
body. Her upper body was supported by the restraints on her arms. The collar around her neck was a constant reminder of her
submission.
His arm under her hips stopped her from moving, holding her still and in place for the invader he was forcing against her anus.
This was like the rope bondage she loved. Being restrained, held, the ability—and need—to think about how to position herself
gone.
That realization was like a bright flash of light in her brain. For a moment everything in her mental landscape went white, and
then she relaxed and let go.
The ball forced open her ass. She cried out at the sweet pain, then it was in, her muscles closing around the unfamiliarly flexible
chain. The ball was a hard, broad presence inside her. She felt full and used—both familiar sensations, but this was different. It
was like tasting a new breed of orange—the flavor familiar, yet subtly different.
“Well done,” he murmured. “That was big, and you took it beautifully.
“Thank you, Master,” she murmured. That felt so good to say. It felt so good to have his collar tight on her neck, her ass aching,
her nipples tight with need, her pussy wet and ready for him.
Grif’s hands, stroking her hips and thighs, stilled for a moment.
“Say my name,” he murmured.
And odd command, but a command.
“Grif.”
“And who am I...who am I to you?”
“My master.”
He squeezed her hips, then circled around to her front. Lifting her chin, he met her gaze. His eyes were so warm. So pretty. He
had long lashes.
“I’m going to keep going,” he said. “Maybe I should stop, but I’m going to keep going.”

“Please don’t stop.”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “I won’t. I can’t.”
She loved the smell of his breath—it was always a little minty, because he always brushed his teeth before they started. She’d
watched him do it. Had she ever told him how much she liked that he did that? How she’d had to switch to unscented toothpaste
because sometimes the smell of mint gave her visceral flashbacks to their time together, leaving her wet and needy when she
needed to be either getting ready for work or drifting off to sleep.
Before she could tell him either of those things he’d turned away. That was okay, she could still feel him—not his touch, but his
domination, his control. It was there in the collar and cuffs. The way her ass was full and ached from the pressure of the ball and
the play that had come before.
When he returned, he draped handfuls of carefully separated chain over the chair back. She looked down at it, trying to see if
there was anything on the chains, any indication of what he’d use it for.
“Keep your back straight,” Grif murmured.
She brought her hips forward a little, taking the pressure off her lower back. That made the ball shift inside her, and brought the
encrusted disk-base tight against the outside of her anus. She gasped at the feel of the bumpy surface against the sensitive skin.
“Tell me,” he commanded.
“The base of the plug. It feels...”
He grinned. “It’s jeweled on the inner face, to stimulate you. Jewelry.”
Davina’s lips twitched. “Of course, Master, it makes perfect sense.”
Grif blinked. “Davina.”
Why had he said her name like that? “Yes?”
“Do you know what you’re saying?”
What a ridiculous question. “Yes.”
“You’re calling me Master.”

“Because you are my Master.”
That was true. Maybe she’d ignored it before, hurt both of them by not using the word, but now her mind was clear. Aroused to
the point of intoxication, bound in a wonderful, unfamiliar way, she had total clarity. The reasons she hadn’t used the word before
didn’t matter. Her past didn’t matter, in the place of weightless clarity she didn’t need to lie and evade to protect herself.
She knew what she was doing, and what she needed.
You need to pull it together and take about a million steps back. This is such a bad situation for you.
That internal voice was annoying, and easy to ignore.
“Okay.” His shoulders relaxed, but his brow was still furrowed. “I needed to check. While we’re at it, tell me your safe word.”
“I don’t need it.”
One of Grif’s brows rose. “Did I ask if you needed it?”
Davina all but purred with happy pleasure at the displeasure in his tone. This was what she wanted—to be corrected and
mastered.
“No, Master.”
“What is your safe word?”
“Mandala.”
“Minx.” Now he said it with affection and approval. “Time to decorate those pretty breasts.”
Davina took a deep breath, offering herself to him.
Grif cupped and lifted her right breast, squeezing until the skin plumped between his splayed fingers. His lips closed delicately
over the tip, a gentle kiss, at odds with the way he held her tit.
Then he sucked her into his mouth, taking not just the nipple, but the whole areola.
Davina gasped as he sucked. Each pull of his mouth made her pussy clench. She’d always found it odd and wonderful that there
seemed to be some magical connection between nipples and pussy. A connection that existed only when she was aroused.

He sucked hard and pulled his head away. The suction of his warm, wet mouth elongated her nipple until finally her flesh popped
from his mouth. She leaned towards him, wanting more, her arms and shoulders stretched taut.
“Straighten up,” he commanded. “And hold still.”
With a small whimper of protest she obeyed. She should have trusted him, should have known there would be more wonderful,
dark things coming.
“This is what I’m using on you next.”
Davina licked her lips as she looked at what he held up. A nipple cage.
It was larger than ones she’d seen before—the diameter of a quarter. Delicate bands of silver metal formed a filigree dome that
didn’t just go around her nipple, but enclosed it. The ends of the looping, woven bands were anchored at two small open rings,
with a straight post threaded through it. Rather than simple balls, the delicate post ended in filigreed disks.
Grif balanced the cage on the chair, then quickly swiped an alcohol wipe over the nipple he’d just been sucking. He quickly
cleaned his hands with hand sanitizer, and then picked up the nipple cage and unscrewed one disk before pulling the post free.
Her nipple was still damp, areola tight from the cooling effect of air on wet flesh. He stroked the bottom curve of her breast,
waiting for her areola to relax.
Once it had, he placed the cage over her nipple, lining it up with the piercing holes.
“I’m going to put the nipple cage on now. Take a breath and hold still. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He threaded the post through the ring of the nipple cage, then carefully started to wiggle and slide the post through the piercing
hole.
She was panting by the time he was done. Having him insert nipple jewelry was a mix of uncomfortable, arousing, and
wonderfully intimate. Nipple jewelry was sexy when it was in, but putting it in was just a bit odd and awkward, similar to putting in
stud earrings.
The end of the post was threaded through the small mooring ring on the other edge of the cage. He screwed on the disk, then
stepped back.
She gasped in shock at the weight of it. Though it was delicately made, with a small gauge post, the nipple cage was far larger
than what she normally wore. She’d never worn a cage before, but the ones she’d occasionally considered purchasing had

always been smaller, meant to hug and cup the nipple itself.
This cage, like others, would sit flat if it was placed on a table. Fastened to the tip of her breast, and given the size, it had rotated
forward, leaving a gap between the upper line of her tit and the top band of metal.
As Grif went to work on her other nipple, Davina looked down at her breast, examining her new bondage.
The longer she looked, the more sure she was that bondage was the right word. The bar through her nipple, and the weight of
the piece, were stimulating, but she would soon get used to that, and once she did, it would be very hard—impossible even—for
her Master to play with her nipples.
The cage arched over the nipple itself, leaving several centimeters of clearance. The diameter of the cage was large enough that
it encompassed almost all of her—admittedly small—areola.
It was like he’d locked part of her away.
An odd, uneasy shiver worked down her spine.
This should have been satisfying, should have been part of the feeling of restriction that she so enjoyed about bondage.
Instead...
She shook her head, as if that would help the thought solidify.
“Hold still,” Grif admonished. He finished attaching the second cage. This time when he stepped back he kept going, until he was
a yard away.
“Why these, Master?” she asked softly.
“Why nipple jewelry?”
“Why this kind. They’re so big.”
“You wear barbells normally. For this to be different the jewelry had to be different.”
“What about those biting ones?” One time when they’d been planning a scene together, looking at still images from a session
one of their favorite BDSM artists had performed, they’d talked about the submissive partner’s nipple jewelry—tight fitting nipple

cages that looked like a full set of teeth with fangs, almost like those small white plastic sets of teeth that came in bags of candy
at Halloween, but made of silver, and fitted snuggly to the woman’s nipples.
He tucked both hands into the pockets of his jeans. The button was undone and she could see enough skin to know he wore
nothing under them. “They had some of those. I chose this for you. This is what I wanted for you.”
She wanted to demand to know why he hadn’t selected those. They’d talked about them, so he’d known she would like them.
“Why” was on the tip of her tongue ready to be not so much spoken as spat at him.
She exhaled and relaxed. It wasn’t a conscious decision. She was still mentally debating saying more, when she felt her body
relax. It was a subconscious reaction to the situation. To his words.
To him.
He selected one of the chains he’d draped over the chair. Like the ones he’d used earlier, it was long with spring ring clasps on
both ends. He held it up, found the mid-point, then held that in the air, eyeing the chain and then her. He set that one down and
selected another, repeating the process until he found one that was the right length for whatever he was planning.
Grif carefully attached one end to the top side of the right nipple cage. He slid the chain behind her neck and down to her left
nipple.
The chain was an inch too short to reach. He gave a little tug, lifting the right cage, and her nipple along with it. She gasped in
reaction, then held that air in as he fastened the other end of the chain. Once it was secure, he slid one finger from each hand
under the chain, tracing the path from her breasts up over her collarbone to her neck. He adjusted it until the tension was even.
“How does that feel?” He bent, peering closely at each nipple in turn.
“Odd.”
“How?”
“It’s just...it’s not like when we play with weights. The cage is pushing against me, and the bar feels different than my normal
one.”
“This is supposed to be different.”
“That’s why you selected these?”

“We’ve established that.”
His formal words and tone made her wonder if he was maybe a lawyer. Over the years she’d spent more hours than she would
ever admit to wondering about him.
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“You don’t need to apologize. You need to accept I won’t always answer.” He picked up another length of chain. This time he
started on her left, clipping the chain to the nipple cage, but this time instead of going up, he brought the chain down and across
her body, under her right breast, across her back, then back around front, connecting once more to the left nipple cage.
The chain draped low on her back, just touching the top of her ass. She shifted her hips, feeling it shift and dance.
That also made the plug, which she’d momentarily gotten used to, shift around enough that she was again wildly aware of the
fullness and strange sensation of the links and encrusted disk.
He then repeated that pattern with another chain, starting with her right nipple. Again she shifted, feeling the slide of cool,
delicate metal against her skin.
Grif touched her cheek, enough to make her eyes, which had half closed as she focused on the sensation of the plug he’d
placed inside her, open.
When her gaze met his, he reached down, without breaking eye contact, and unfastened the chain tethering her collar to her
chair.
Was the scene over?
He carefully unwound it, leaving the end he’d attached to the o ring of her collar in place. She swallowed hard, wanting to feel the
restriction.
He shook out the chain. “Put your right foot on the ground. On the side of the chair. I need your legs spread.”
He was going to touch her pussy. “Yes, Master.”
She obeyed, her right side now stretched in a long line from her foot on the floor to her raised elbow. After a moment she could
feel the leather cuff starting to cut off blood flow to her forearm.

“It won’t be for long.” Grif threaded the chain between her legs. “You won’t be able to see it, but I’m putting this through the ring in
the plug.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Minx. You don’t know how tight I’m going to make this.”
He put action to words, pulling the chain tight. It jammed against her pussy, slightly off center so it was pressing hard on her
labia. When he tugged again, it slid into the space between her pussy and left thigh.
He passed the end of the chain over her shoulder, then smoothed it down the centerline of her body, laying it against itself,
before finally clipping it to the larger ring closest to where the end lay.
When he was done, a single long length wound along the midline of her body.
“Knee back up,” he ordered.
Her shoulders relaxed when she put her knee on the chair, releasing some of the tension.
Grif crouched, peering at her pussy between the ladder back rungs of the chair. Reaching around, he swiped his thumb over her
mound.
“You’re soaking wet.”
“I need you,” she whispered.
“And I’m so hard for you, my cock could cut diamonds. But we’re not done.”
“What more do we have to do?” she asked rather desperately. Based on the length in feet of jewelry chain she was wearing, this
was more jewelry than she’d ever worn before in her life.
“I have a challenge.” His words were so low she could barely hear them. When he used his thumb to hook the chain, tugging it
sideways so that it slid between her naked, wet labia, she stopped trying to listen. “I think I’ve done it already. Now it’s about how
far we can go.”
He parted the lips of her sex, spreading them wide and then tugging the chain with his free hand, shifting it over so it was
situated between her pussy lips. The plug shifted inside her, the tiny links of the chain rubbed over her clit and she threw her
head back, wailing between her teeth.

Grif surged to his feet. “Did you just come?”
“No, Master, no.” She blinked at him. “I don’t think so. It was so...precise.”
“Precise?”
“The chain on my clit... Precise.”
His gaze traveled down her, and it was the calculating, possessive gaze of a Master. She waited—bound in chain and panting
with need, her nipples aching to be touched, yet trapped in the vacuum of the cage, the only stimulation the constant pulling from
the length looped around her body and the pressure of the ball in her ass.
Her Master picked up another chain.