Nipple Clamps as Therapy #MasturbationMonday

“My skin feels too tight, Daddy.” That’s become my code for an unexplainable cranky, agitated, upset feeling that I don’t know how to shake off. I’d had a bad day at work, and Daddy was doing his best to calm me down over the phone.

It wasn’t working.

That tight, upset feeling brings out my little side in a different way. I whine. I cry. I snap. If I could, I’m sure I’d stomp my foot, cross my arms, and pout. No solution is the right one. Nothing will ever be better. Life stinks, and I hate it.

“Tonight, when the boys are in bed, I want you to wear your Hello Kitty pjs and pigtails. And wear the nipple clamps for ten minutes.” His voice lowered into a growly whisper. I whimpered into the phone, nodding my head. “Well, girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

The night progressed swiftly. Boys, dinner, baths, homework, my work. Finally, they were in bed. I asked if I could call him after I put on the clamps. Can a text message growl? His reply growled as loudly to me as if he’d spoken in my ear.

Locking myself in my room, I changed clothes and pulled out the clamps. The first clamp pinched my nipple, and I gasped. The next was tighter, and the pain seared through my body. I called Daddy and panted as fiery bolts of pain shot through me.

“Breathe, babygirl. Breathe through the pain. Doesn’t that feel good? Your nipples and clit are connected, aren’t they?”

Whimpering and mumbling, I rolled onto my knees, the blood pooling in my nipples, the clamps almost unbearable. Almost, but not quite.

“Touch that pussy, girl.”

My hand reached down and sank deep into dripping flesh. I gasped in surprise. My clit was more sensitive than usual.

“You’re already soaked, aren’t you, babygirl?”

“Mmmmm…ahhhhhhh!” My fingers swirled around my clit. A throbbing need filled my whole body. I begged.

“Oh God! Daddy, please, please….mmmmmm, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease, oh God, Daddy!” I shrieked and squeaked. My knees spread wide, my back arched. The throbbing in my nipples matched the throbbing in my pussy.

Daddy made me wait, made me beg more, waited until I was pleading and breathless, sobbing into my pillow.

“Cum for me, babygirl!” My body jerked and shuddered, spasming around my hand. Before I could recover, “Again, girl.”

The second orgasm hid behind a few strokes. I pleaded with Daddy. Permission granted. I came, hard.

A third orgasm and then a fourth. I collapsed into the pillow, breatheless, ass still in the air. Nipples forgotten as I fought to catch my breath.

“I know that greedy little cunt as another one for me.” Daddy’s voice deepened dramatically. Without thinking, I stroked my clit, begging within seconds. He made me wait again. I cried. Finally…

“Cum for me girl!” I gushed into my hand and heard the tell-tale growl of his own release. Giggling in the afterglow, I asked if he felt better, too. He chuckled.

“Clean your hand, babygirl.” I slurped and hummed in happiness. “Got a little wet, did you?”

“Yes, Daddy!” I couldn’t stop giggling.

Moments later, I remembered the clamps, still squeezing, still throbbing.

“Ok, babygirl, take the first one off, and get your mouth on that nipple.” I hissed and sucked, groaning in the back of my throat. I could imagine my mouth on a woman’s nipple. Mmmm. “Babygirl, now the other.”

I put the nipple clamps away and straightened my pajamas. I sighed into the phone, relaxed and ready to fall asleep.

“Feel better, babygirl?”

“Yes, Daddy. Who knew nipple clamps could be a form of therapy?”

“Daddy always knows what you need, babygirl.”

Yes, he does.