Standing naked in front of her full-length mirror, Jocelyn Reynolds stepped into her new pink thong underwear that contained a remote-controlled vibrator. A present from Robert, her boyfriend of three months, who knew that his girlfriend adored sex toys.
She fastened her half bar that forced her 44C breasts together and upwards but didn't cover her nipples. Then she attached the new sterling silver necklace around her neck. Another Robert gift.
It's onyx pendant hung in her cleavage. Linked to the pendant were two chains with round nipple clamps at their ends. She inserted her right nipple into the loop with its alligator teeth and adjusted the retainer cinch so that the clamp was secure. She did the same to her left tit. Her nipples stood proud and erect.
Then she squeezed the sides of the pendant and the alligator teeth tightened.
"OOOH," she whimpered.
When she released the pressure on the pendant the teeth contracted.
Where did Robert find this unique piece of jewelry?
She applied greater pressure further tightening the teeth.
"AAAAAH," she moaned in masochistic delight.
She let go of the pendant. It hung between her breasts. The tension on her nipples subsided.
She'd never experienced anything like this before. How much arousal she could endure?
She squeezed the pendant and the teeth bit harder.
"OH FUCK."
She applied more pressure and it felt like the teeth were piercing her sensitive nipples.
"OH ... MY ... GOD."
She continued to squeeze. A mind-blowing sensation of pleasurable pain.
"FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK."
She was panting. Her nipples were on fire. She'd never been aroused like that before. Could it lead to an orgasm?
Before she could find out the alarm on her phone beeped.
Bummer. She had to leave now, or she'd be late for the symphony.
She released the pressure on the pendant and the alligator teeth returned to their default positions of snug with a mild level of pain. When would continuous discomfort become unbearable agony? She'd consider it a success if she could wear the nipple clamps until intermission at the concert.
She slipped on her cream-coloured silk blouse leaving the top three button undone to show off her cleavage, the necklace, and the pendant. Then she eased into her maxi bodycon royal blue skirt with its slit to her left hip. She brushed her shoulder-length brown hair, applied lipstick, stepped into her Christian Louboutin red stilettos, picked up her clutch, and was out the door.
Forty minutes later she exited the cab and greeted Robert with a kiss at the front door of Symphony Hall. In a tailored tuxedo he looked like James Bond.
"You look gorgeous," he said. "Good enough to eat."
"Maybe later," she said with a smile.
"We're the guests of Miriam and Alexander Massey whom I've only just got to know." He linked his arm through hers. "Come along. We don't want to be late."
They entered the Maestro's Lounge where most of the men were in black tie and the women in formal gowns. Patrons turned their heads to eye the stunningly gorgeous woman and her handsome escort. They were the youngest couple in the room. Jocelyn was 25. Robert two years older.
"Those are the Massey's," he said as they strolled through the crowd.
They appeared to be in their mid-fifties. Alexander looked like a successful banker in an Armani dinner jacket. Miriam wore a designer emerald chiffon gown with a plunging neckline together and a triple-strand pearl necklace with matching pearl earrings.
"Robert, darling, so good of you to join us. And this must be Jocelyn. You've even prettier than he said. You could be a fashion model. How are you my dear?"
Miriam leaned forward and kissed Jocelyn on both cheeks. Her perfume was subtle and expensive.
Robert made the introductions while a waiter in white shirt and black trousers handed each of them a flute of champaign.
"I think you'll find the concert stimulating," Miriam said to Jocelyn. "Afterwards we'll explore our common interests."
Joycelyn was a highly successful software programmer. Was this a business meeting?
"What a lovely necklace," Miriam said. "I had one just like it. May I?"
She reached forward with her right hand and fingered the pendant. Then she squeezed its sides.
Joycelyn gasped and almost dropped her champagne flute. The alligator clamps bit into her nipples with all the force of a savage animal eating its prey. The pain was excruciating. She held her breath afraid that any movement would increase her anguish. After mere seconds, but what seemed like agonizing minutes to Jocelyn, Miriam let go of the pendant.
She was speechless. Tears welled up in her eyes. The pressure on her nipples subsided but the pain remained.
What the fuck? Was that an accident?
A bell chimed three times and the lights dimmed twice.
"Time to take our seats," Miriam said.
Their private box had four well padded armrest chairs, arranged in a row facing the right side of the orchestra. Placing her clutch underneath her chair she took her seat between Robert and Miriam. Alexander sat on the other side of his wife.
From her perch Jocelyn had a magnificent view of the entire theatre with the stage and orchestra seats below and four tiers of seats above. Each box was separated by a small wall about a meter high. To Robert's right, in the next box, was a gorgeous raven-haired beauty. On Alexander's left was a grey-haired gentleman. Jocelyn couldn't see the other patrons in the adjacent boxes.
Because of the slit in the dress, her shapely left leg, bare thigh, and round hip were exposed for all to see and admire. She felt beautiful and regal. A gorgeous woman in designer clothes lounging in an exclusive box in Symphony Hall.
She also felt sexy and naughty. The alligator clamps were still squeezing her sore nipples from Miriam's faux pas with the pendant. How long could she endure their unceasing pressure? Until intermission when she'd be able to remove them in the privacy of the washroom?
What about the remote-controlled vibrator? How many times would Robert quietly pleasure her during the performance? Five ... six ... seven times over the next two and half hours? She was wet at the prospect knowing that afterwards she'd fuck his brains out in his condo.
The lights dimed. The patrons settled back in their seats. The conductor marched onto the stage accompanied by applause. He shook the hand of the concertmaster and then mounted the podium. As the orchestra began to play Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture the vibrator in her thong came alive. It was totally silent. Not even a humming sound.
She glanced at Robert who returned her smile.
Let the fun begin, she thought. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the melodic sounds of the symphony orchestra, the pain of the nipple clamps, and the stimulation in her pussy.
He adjusted the vibrator's intensity to match the tempo of the music. As the pace of the overture increased so too did the activity on her clit.
The first two minutes were a gentle tease. Then he raised the stimulation of the sex toy as the musicians played with greater vigor and gusto. She opened her eyes. It must be at its highest level she thought.
This was no longer playful. It was extreme. If he didn't dial it back, she'd come while dressed to the nines in a box in Symphony Hall. What would the patrons of the symphony think if she shrieked in sexual pleasure in the middle of the performance?
She glanced to her right. Robert, the scumbag, was concentrating on the orchestra and ignoring her.
She fidgeted. How much more provocation could she sustain?
The stimulus on her clitoris increased dramatically as the orchestra played the French national anthem.
She tried to sit still. Focus. Focus. It's a question of will power. I will not come. I will not come. I will not come.
