Cullen didn't expect to be untied, and as he quietly reeled over what he'd just admitted – even if Bull only ever took the words at their surface meaning – he found it odd to have the rope removed. Bull stayed close, offering a constant, warm presence. Cullen closed his eyes and didn't protest, because even though he already missed the rope, a part of this process was surely trusting that Bull would return him back to himself at the end of it. He'd done it every other time, after all.
He'd liked being able to struggle against something. The ropes made him uneasy, but they gave him something to fight against – something that wasn't another person, that wasn't scraping his fingers raw against the wall, that wasn't lashing at someone with words.
'Your shoulders are gonna ache a bit,' Bull said. 'You're not used to this, and I dunno, I don't think the arthritis is in your shoulders yet, but better to be safe than sorry. Don't worry, we're not done with the ropes.'
'I don't have arthritis,' Cullen said quietly, the fire in his voice gone. The soreness in his fingers mocked him.
'Don't you?' Bull said, sounding surprised. 'Could've fooled me.'
'Myself, actually,' Cullen said.
Cullen was surprised to feel fingers gently touching the back of his head, trailing through his hair, an acknowledgement of something that Cullen would rather not think about. Some lies he didn't tell Bull, he needed them for himself.
Bull was right, his shoulders did ache. Even as he gingerly shifted his arms, the pain was scratchy and grating. He made a huffing laugh, a single, despairing breath, and Bull's fingers were there pressing carefully into the joints. But the pain receded all too quickly, and Cullen missed that too as the ache started to fade into something that tuned into the background.
'I like it,' Cullen said, swallowing, thinking that his mouth was going to be dry all night at this rate.
'What's that?' Bull said, as he smoothed his hand down Cullen's back and ended with his broad hand cupping Cullen's ass.
'When it hurts.'
'No,' Bull said, sounding scandalised. 'You?' And then, before Cullen could react to that, Bull added: 'I like it too. Well, not the hurting part. I can only handle that in small doses. The hurting you part though? I'm here for that. You don't think we're done, do you? You have no idea what I've got planned for you, little lion.'
'You know what they say about theatre shows and plays that are talked up, don't you? Always fail to impress.'
A light slap on his ass then, and Cullen startled, but it didn't really hurt. Just the accent of a sting, and he was smiling into the blankets, feeling giddy and strange, because he was still as mouthy as ever, and yet he could tell the difference between this and the quality of surrender he'd offered in the past.
'I'm gonna turn you over onto your back,' Bull said. 'And we should probably get you facing the headboard and on some pillows. Might as well make you comfortable before making you uncomfortable.'
Cullen made a faint sound that substituted for having to say anything. He could still feel the echo of Bull's tongue moving over his ass, still feel the places where the ropes had bound him. When Bull bodily shifted him, Cullen only moved enough to help, to make sure he wasn't a dead weight. Then a thumb smoothed over his forehead, then underneath the curve of the shaped blindfold.
Then it smoothed over his lips, and Cullen opened his mouth automatically, not to kiss or lick, but to bite. Bull, surprisingly, let him. So Cullen's teeth closed carefully – almost protectively – over Bull's thumb. His tongue slid over what he'd captured, and then, because his arms were free, he raised his hand and captured Bull's wrist, holding him in place. Lines of fire dug into his chest, and Cullen's mouth opened on a silent cry. He'd not been expecting it, and Bull's blunt fingers scraped over his skin, returning to start all over again.
Bull's thumb slid deeper into his mouth, and Cullen closed his lips again, made a faint sound, kept his teeth away now. He curled the underside of his tongue around the pad of Bull's thumb, listened to the rumbling sound of approval that Bull made and felt like he was sinking into it.
The hand at Cullen's chest disappeared, then came up by his head, picked up one of the pillows that Cullen wasn't resting on.
'Lift your hips,' Bull said. 'Let's get you on display.'
Bull's thumb stayed right in Cullen's mouth, and Cullen thought of saying something, but Bull would already know that Cullen found this awkward. His nostrils flared on a sigh, and he lifted his hips, wincing when he felt the pillow slide under, propping him up. His knees bent together automatically, and Bull didn't pull them apart, but rubbed briefly over the scratches on his chest in reassurance.
Then, Bull's thumb slid free of Cullen's mouth, he was moving across the bed. Cullen heard the sound of the sack being lifted. Something heavy dropping on the bed. Something else falling onto the bed. Then the sound of ropes slithering again. Cullen pressed his lips together, anticipation making his heart beat faster.
Hands manipulated his arms with the same carefulness as before. Then, what felt like a broad leather cuff placed around each of his wrists, instead of the ropes themselves.
'So you don't bruise,' Bull said, threading rope through metal rings through the cuffs.
'Thank you,' Cullen said, wondering if this meant that Bull didn't expect him to take any elfroot afterwards.
The ropes were wound through more than one ring on the cuffs, secured to the sturdy bedposts, so that Cullen's arms were spread up and back, baring his armpits, stretching his torso. Cullen squirmed a little to feel that stretch in his muscles.
'You feel any real numbness or pins and needles in your hands, tell me, yeah?'
'Okay,' Cullen said, flexing his fingers.
Cullen heard the sound of a pouch being unbuttoned, the kind of buttons that made a sharp, popping sound as every one was undone, ratcheting up the tension in Cullen's limbs.
Cullen jolted when he felt the sensation of many small objects raining down on top of him, falling onto the blankets either side of him. They didn't hurt or stick to him, and they were cold. He shifted his arms, absently wanting to touch them, but he could do nothing more but strain weakly against the ropes.
'Open your mouth for me,' Bull said. 'Stick your tongue out. I'll let you see if you can guess what these babies are.'
A hesitation, and Cullen opened his mouth, then slid his tongue forward. He clenched his fingers on the rope that stretched over his palms, waited. He thought of how he would have likely just refused this, if Bull had asked him, months ago. But the last time Bull had told Cullen to open his mouth, the rewards had been great. Though he suspected this wasn't leading towards a blowjob.
Cullen concentrated when he felt something cold, oddly shaped. It was like a very smooth pebble, but it was clearly shaped in two parts. Then Bull's fingertips brushed over Cullen's tongue as he turned whatever it was, and Cullen tasted metal, perhaps steel. A wire connecting the two pieces together. His eyebrows furrowed and he thought he might have a vague idea what it was, but it didn't make any sense. He tipped his head back, withdrew his tongue, and Bull shifted the object back so Cullen could speak.
'A...kind of clothespin? A small one? What's it made of?'
'It's called a clamp,' Bull said, a smile in his voice. 'And resin. It's made of resin.'
'You- So not for clothing then, I imagine,' Cullen said, feet shifting uncertainly on the blankets.
'Nope,' Bull said. 'Here, let me give you a demonstration. Remember your watchword?'
'Not likely to forget it.'
'Good,' Bull said, placing warmth and emphasis on the word so that Cullen shivered, felt pleased for something so simple. A hand rested steady on his chest, flat and broad, and then Cullen felt the clamp move whisper soft over the taut skin of his armpit. Cullen bit his top lip, turned his head towards it.
The hand on Cullen's chest shifted, pinched up a bit of the skin, and Cullen then turned his head away, because that skin was sensitive. Dread and excitement tangled fiercely, he had no idea how to brace himself for this.
The clamp was closed around the bit of skin in stages. At first hardly at all, and then enough that Cullen could feel the pain of it, gripping him tight – enough that Cullen thought it was securely attached and Bull was just keeping his fingers on it to see how Cullen reacted. When Bull took his fingers away, the full grip found him and he grit his teeth together, hissing, because it felt like it was cutting into him. Felt like it was pinching right through his skin.
'You're fine,' Bull said, 'they won't harm you.'
'It's not...cutting through?' Cullen said, turning his head towards it again. The pain wasn't like the flogger, there and back again, a rhythmic rise and fall. It was simply there, and building, and he pressed his lips together. His wrist jerked at the ropes, as though to make the skin less tight, the feeling of it lessen.
'I promise,' Bull said. 'They have a solid grip, but they don't break the skin. Might bruise a little.'
Cullen made a faint sound, acknowledgement or frustration, and waited as Bull seemed to be waiting. It definitely wasn't severe enough to warrant the watchword, but it was different to anything else he'd known. He breathed through his nose, felt the pain ride him up to some peak, and then it plateaued and evened out. Just like that, the pain became almost background noise.
Cullen's lips went slack and he shuddered out a long breath. It was good. Different, but still good.
Then he felt Bull pick another one up from the bed and remembered just how many had fallen over him, and his legs drew up to his chest in alarm.
'Steady,' Bull said, gently pushing Cullen's legs back down. 'You've got this. Though I s'pose it'd be mean of me if I didn't say now they hurt more coming off than they do going on.'
Cullen nodded, doubtful, and let his legs go back to a more relaxed, bent position. Then felt the next clamp running over his skin and tilted his head back, because he wasn't used to being on his back like this and receiving pain. Wasn't accustomed to the way a part of him wanted it – wanted to see how much he could take and bear – when another part of him wanted to sweep them all off the bed and hear them clatter to the floor.
The next one was placed just below the first, millimetres of skin separating them, and Cullen kept his lips pressed together and didn't make a sound. He held his breath for long moments, then tried to breathe through it. That rise of pain, knowing – hoping – that there would be a plateau, a point where it would fade.
As he found that plateau, Bull pinched up some skin on Cullen's other armpit and attached the clamp quickly. No gentle attachment this time.
Cullen groaned, turned his head into his shoulder. Then grunted when another was attached just beneath it – mirroring the position of the clamps on the other side. He'd had no time to adjust to that rise of pain before another fell in step behind it and his fingers splayed, reaching for something.
Fingers brushed gently over his nipples, sending faint threads of pleasure through him. Among the pain, it was sharper, almost too much, but he stayed as still for it as he could. Focused instead on his breathing, on the pain, of what it was like to be embedded in his body so firmly.
It took him a few moments of breathing shakily through the pleasure of having his nipples plucked to small points, when he realised why Bull was doing that.
'Bull...' Cullen said, unable to keep the wariness out of his tone.
'Some people love clamps,' Bull said, 'but most of them have less tension in the wire. These ones are probably the meanest I've got. Made special. I think you're gonna have this sort of weird love-hate relationship with these. But you're gonna look so amazing in them.'
'Really?' Cullen said, scepticism and need warring together.
'You have no idea how amazing,' Bull said, the fervency in his voice making Cullen shiver. A part of him settled in response to it, and he waited, worrying the inside of his bottom lip with his teeth.
When the clamp attached to his right nipple, his back arched a little, but half of it was over-reacting in anticipation of the pain. The fact was, after clamps had been attached to the sensitive, stretched skin of his armpits, this was...worse by comparison, but not as bad as Cullen had been expecting. He sank back to the bed with a heavy exhale, breathing through the pain. He was growing used to it now. That steady rise, that plateau, and then a noise of pain in the back of his mind that paradoxically kept him anchored, sent him floating.
The grip never eased, so the pain communicated with him constantly.
'Ask me for the next one,' Bull said quietly. Then Bull was arching over him, kissing him firmly, tongue sliding into his mouth, exploring slowly, finding the sore spot that Cullen had bitten into the inside of his mouth. Cullen swallowed the sound that wanted to burst from his throat at that, and instead arched up into Bull's body, felt his cock heavy against his torso, arched higher.
Bull groaned, pressed down, and then lifted his head and breathed against Cullen's mouth.
'Ask me,' Bull growled.
'Can I- Can I have the next clamp?' Cullen said, thinking that if there was a way to drown in someone else's will, Cullen was finding it.
'What's the magic word?' Bull said, licking wetly, broadly over Cullen's mouth. The move had painted his lips with saliva, made Cullen feel dirty, owned.
'Please,' Cullen whispered. 'Please?'
'You're so good,' Bull said. 'How someone hasn't snapped you up yet, I'll never fucking know.'
'I've been...busy,' Cullen said, feeling dazed. 'With work.'
For some reason, that made Bull chuckle, but the laugh wasn't mean-spirited, so Cullen found himself hardly caring. Then, hard plastic against his other nipple and Cullen wanted to turn his head away to manage the pain – but Bull would be able to see him anyway. Be able to see what Cullen wanted to hide. So instead he kept his face still, his mouth opening.
Bull's lips sealed over his the moment the clamp snapped closed over his sensitive skin, captured the hoarse sound that Cullen made. Bit down into Cullen's lower lip, and Cullen's arms strained, his hands wanting to touch Bull's face, his shoulders, his arms. But in lieu of that contact, he arched his body up and accidentally brushed the clamps on his chest against Bull's body, the drag and catch snagging his breath and dragging a cry from his lips.
A hand between his legs, nudging his legs apart and then jacking his cock with such familiarity that Cullen felt like they'd been doing this for years, not months. How could it only be the second time that Bull had known his body like this?
Lust rose and fell in jags. It was bonded to the pain now, and it made his body sing a tune he didn't understand, couldn't harmonise with. He wanted to struggle against it, wanted to embrace it, couldn't choose. So instead he just focused on Bull's mouth against his, on the hand that was soothing along his flank, the other that was setting a slow pace with a firm grip, palm rubbing over the head of him each time.
Bull leaned back, and Cullen leaned up, grabbing the ropes to brace himself. In response to that, Bull pressed a quick kiss against his lips, and Cullen sagged back, trembling.
A palm brushed lightly over the clamps on his right armpit, and Cullen gasped as the pain reignited. His skin felt like it would tear, but he could tell it was still hale afterwards. Bull was good at that, driving him to heights of pain he was unused to, and leaving him whole at the end.
More clamps found his body as Bull picked them up from the bed and pinched up bits of skin and placed them. At least ten divided equally on either side of his flanks, throbbing with every inhale. Four more divided down both sides of his armpits. And when Bull moved between Cullen's legs and trailed clamps up the inside of his thighs, Cullen's legs tried to squeeze shut in reflex, even as his breathing picked up in dread and need. His mind swum.
'I want you to tell me if this is too much,' Bull said. 'You don't have to use your watchword for this, if you just want to say it's too much, I'll take it off, got it?'
Cullen managed nothing more than a soft sound, and then swallowed thickly when he felt the clamp at the base of his cock, dragging over the skin, catching on the damp flesh.
He clenched his jaw when he felt Bull carefully pinch up a bit of skin on the underside of the base of his cock, and then moaned when he felt the clamp start to close. His cock twitched hard, a hard knot of arousal and fear in the root of his spine.
The pain bloomed. At first, Cullen couldn't even pinpoint where the clamp was anymore, because the pain was everywhere at once. His fingers clenched into fists, his wrists jerked in their bonds, and he was only distantly aware of the hand on his belly, stroking him. The other held his cock still, occasionally moving it just enough to excite pain and pleasure both.
Seconds bled into a minute, then another minute, and Cullen realised that he wasn't telling Bull it was too much. He wasn't saying the watchword. It hurt so much he didn't have words for it. It overwhelmed. But was it too much?
Cullen shook his head, shook it again, and then managed: 'It's not- It's- I-'
'Breathe,' Bull said patiently. 'What are you trying to say? Imagine the words first, and then say them.'
Cullen almost laughed at the simplicity of the direction, but he needed it, because words were escaping him. Every new clamp made him remember every other, and he was decorated with over twenty now. Were there any more left on the bed? Cullen tried to make himself concentrate. What was he trying to say?
'It's not too much,' Cullen said, his voice breaking. Because it was, but he didn't want it to stop.
'One more?' Bull said.
Cullen nodded, even as he squeezed tears out of the corners of his eyes.
'After this one, we're going to leave them alone now, give you a bit of a break while I open you up.'
While I open you up.
Cullen thought that of all the ways he expected to die, this hadn't ever been on the list.