Most switches would’ve been feeling regret right about now, but Nickie didn’t regret anything. Sure, Bud had used a few of her own tricks to torture her and hurt her worse, but she’d bratted through much of it because her time with Dave had made her crave this from Bud.

So while she kneeled with her own nJoy in her ass and a weight hanging from it, ginger in her pussy, clamps on her nipples, and tears streaming down her face with Bud challenging her to see how long he could grow his cock before she gagged on it down past her fucking collarbones, she was in bratty submissive heaven.

Her ass and thighs were bruised until he’d stopped threatening another spanking, but the man had another hour left of their time and he apparently wasn’t going to waste a single minute of it. She’d slept maybe six hours of the last forty-eight hours of their bet, and she was exhausted but happy.

“You’ve come a long way,” he told her as he slowly pulled out of her throat and let her see how much he’d buried in her digestive tract. Thankfully, it got skinny as it got long, and in some ways it was easier to handle that way than super fat and only an inch into her throat. Her jaw certainly appreciated the skinnier version.

“Thank you, Sir.”

About eighteen hours ago she’d gagged on it until she nearly puked, and he’d grabbed her feet and held them in the air so her upper back was barely on the floor, and used an extension cord on her ass and thighs until she was crazy from the pain and would’ve safeworded if she could’ve caught her breath enough to get it out. He knew it, too — he’d admitted it later, and told her consequences are supposed to hurt or what good are they.

Oddly enough, she wasn’t pissed because he was right. She wasn’t willing to do away with a safeword completely, but the extra two minutes past when she wanted to say it hadn’t killed her, and she trusted Bud not to actually injure her.

Now, he went to the bedroom and returned with a simple chair, like one you’d find at a dining room table, with a padded seat and no arms. The back of the chair was a large oval medallion, with about a foot of space between the medallion and the seat.

Bud disconnected her wrist cuffs and she brought her hands around front to relieve her shoulders, but after only a few seconds he lifted her and settled her on her back on the seat of the chair, with her legs in the air. He traced his finger down her stomach, over her mound, and through her slit. She moaned in frustration when it left without dipping into her, and then gasped.

Her pulse sped and her back scraped across the upholstery under her as he pushed her butt until her face went under the medallion and her head hung off the back of the seat. Her left shoulder protested when he ran a rope through her wrist cuff’s connector ring and tied her hand to the base of the back leg. A few seconds later her other wrist got the same treatment, and then he wound rope around the chair’s back and connected her legs to the outside of it, high up.

Her pussy was wide open to him, as were her breasts, and she quickly realized neither had been beaten yet.

“Your neck okay?”

“For a little while. Probably not an hour, Sir.”

“I’ll work fast, then.”

Bud put cruel clamps on her pussy lips and tied them off to the chair so they were spread wide, and Nickie’s heated blood raced through her veins. She was helpless to stop him, and adrenaline jolted her heart and sent energy to every muscle in her body — but fighting the ropes was useless. She was trapped.

Cool air threatened to dry out tissues used to being protected, and her pussy muscles clenched on emptiness. Panic set in at his silence, and then a scream was ripped from her throat as her clit blossomed in pain. She wasn’t sure, but she’d have sworn he started off by beating her clit with his belt, though with her head at this angle she couldn’t see anything he did. Her entire groin was on fire, battered, beaten, and she wanted more.

He beat her clit, pussy, and asshole with his belt, the wooden spoon, his hand, and a little rubber flogger she didn’t know he’d brought. When she was frantic from the pain and assault on her senses — too much and too fast to process and on the verge of safewording because of her neck — he cut the ropes holding her, lovingly moved her to the bed, brought a sofa cushion for her to lie on with her head hanging off, and stuck an extra pillow under her back so her boobs really stuck up.

“What happens next?” he asked.

“Breast torture, Sir.”

“No smart-assed comments about it, Brat?”

“My pussy hurts, Sir.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and it’s gonna be so damned hot when I cram my dick in.”

It wasn’t until Bud clamped her right nipple and pulled it so her breast was stretched into the air that Nickie realized her hands weren’t bound.

Fuck, but she hated it when he expected her to have self-control.

He showed her the little rubber whip, and ran it around her stretched nipple a few times before he pulled it away and struck the underside of her breast. Nickie sucked air in at the pain, and then screamed when the flogger crashed into the top of the same boob.

The next forty or so minutes seemed to last hours as he beat her right boob and fucked her pussy a while and then her ass, and told her how fucking hot she was from the pussy and asshole beating earlier.

Her breast was bright red, her nipple felt like it had bruises on top of bruises, and she was frantic for the orgasm he kept just out of her reach.

And when his phone went off to signify the end of their forty-eight hours, Bud pulled out of her, removed the clamp from her nipple, and offered her a hand up.

“What? You bastard! You can’t leave me like this!”

He shrugged, turned his back, grabbed a towel, and turned back to her to deliberately clean his cock. “Our time’s up. Are you saying you want to add some time?”

Nickie stilled and considered his strategy.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Never said I’m not.”

“Another hour, but you even up my breasts and I get orgasms.”

He crossed his arms over his muscled chest and Nickie’s eyes trailed down his abs to his rock hard cock, still standing proud. And those fine, fine, legs. Everything wrapped in muscles, like a work of art. Damn, did he have to look like some ancient God while he was being an ass?

“Since when do you make demands?”

Her gaze went back up his body until it met his beautiful green eyes. He wasn’t joking around. This was his “my way or the highway” look, and negotiating might send her backwards instead of closer to her goal.

She sighed. “Another hour, and I know you’ll make it good.”

“Another month.”

“What?! No!”

He leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and looked at her without saying a word.

Damn, but she hated being off balanced. Her right boob burned and throbbed and her left was fine. Fuck.

“Another day. No demands.”

Still nothing. He just looked at her.

“However much time is left on the cabin.”

“Two months.”

“No! You’re going the wrong way!” Fuck.

“It isn’t a negotiation. Two months. I get sex when I want it, but I won’t bother you while you work. We spend nights together when we’re both in town and not working. It’s been intense at the cabin, but you know I’m reasonable with it when we’re home.”

The truth was, she’d have likely agreed to something close to it even without him leaving her unbalanced and wanting at the end of their bet. He hadn’t needed to do this, though she understood him well enough by now to get why he had. She took a breath and tried to sound reasonable. She wanted him to realize this was Nickie talking, not the brat.

“Hear me out before you try to extend it again. I’ll agree to it for another week, with the understanding we’ll come to a permanent agreement at the end of the week. We need to discuss this as equals to make it the new status quo. I’ll fight it if you do it through blackmail.”

“What would you have different in a permanent agreement?”

“I don’t know off the top of my head when I’m unbalanced and horny as fuck!”

Bud chuckled. “One month, and if something doesn’t work for you we’ll discuss it before the month’s up. We’ll make adjustments as needed throughout the month, so we can make it permanent when it’s over.”

“Agreed.”

“Back in position then, so I can even you out.”