Nipple Clamps Toy Box
a nipple clamps collection edited by M. Rode
Torquere Press
Nipple clamps may not be standard equipment
for all couples, but in this smokin' hot Toy Box, they take center
stage. In Dildos, Floggers and Nipple Clamps, Oh My by Vic Winter,
Jamie and Derek are two young lovers in a sex shop for the first time.
When they knock over a display and stuff anything in their cart just to
get out of there, they find nipple clamps very useful.
In
Disciplinary Measures by Mychael Black Dennis is a office drone by day,
and a kinkster by night. When his boss calls him out for being late
after a really good night at home with his toys, Dennis thinks he might
just have found the top he's looking for. And in A Secret Vice by Syd
McGinley, Dr. Fell is back. It's August and he just has the one boy
staying with him -- Tommy. When Dr. Fell reminds himself how good
nipple play can be, Tommy catches him at it. Will Dr. Fell be able to turn his pleasure into a lesson? Hotter than hot!
: :
Excerpt from "Disciplinary Measures":
Dennis eased his shirt closed, gingerly buttoning up the front. Every
nerve in his body screamed with the rough caress of the starched
material. He almost regretted getting carried away last night --
almost. Heat rushed through him when he thought back to everything he'd
done: the plug, the ring, the rubber-tipped clamps. Jesus, he'd nearly
blown his head off his shoulders with an explosive orgasm that rivaled
anything any partner had ever managed. Sometimes, playing alone just
seemed so much easier -- no bullshit, no one to think he was fucked in
the head for wanting a bit of pain.
Unfortunately, the line of thinking that led to his playing last night,
now had his cock tenting his slacks. He was already running late, damn
it. Dennis gave his unruly prick a hard thump and straightened his tie.
There'd be time enough for other things involving knots and pain later
-- preferably after work and well away from the prying eyes of
co-workers. He grabbed his wallet, slipped on his shoes, and pulled on
his suit jacket as he headed out the front door, keys jangling in one
hand. If he was lucky, the day would go fast, because, sweet fuck, his
nipples ached.
Dennis slid into his car and soon the opening notes of "Du Hast" from
Rammstein filled the air as he backed out of the driveway. The drive to
work was fraught with the usual headaches: traffic, pedestrians not
watching where the hell they were walking, horns blaring. By the time
he rolled into the parking garage, Dennis' hard-on had faded and a
headache taking its place. With a sigh, he grabbed his briefcase and
locked the car up before heading toward the elevators.
He was waiting for the doors to open, praying to God that Roland Forbes
was out on a golf day and not stalking the building, when the object of
his fears stepped right up behind him. Even in the reflection off the
metal doors, Roland's features resembled tempered steel: hard,
unforgiving, imposing. And those piercing green eyes were staring right
at Dennis' own blue ones.