‘The Snake’ in Best Bondage Erotica 2014

Best Bondage Erotica 2014

Blurb

Rachel Kramer Bussel ties her readers up in knots each year as they anticipate the very best BDSM stories of the year. And, she does not disappoint, defying the odds and occasionally gravity with tales of bondage at its best. These whip-smart tales of domination, submission, spanking, and other highly imaginative acts keep readers in a frenzy. Best Bondage Erotica 2014 features 21 hot bondage tales that titillate from the bedroom to the dungeon and beyond. Handpicked by best-selling erotica editor Bussel, these kinky stories show and tell exactly what it means to wield the special power of being in charge of someone else. These characters manipulate rope, handcuffs, leather straps, a St. Andrew’s cross, a chair, and, in Raziel Moore’s “My Own Device,” a special contraption crafted just for bondage, with the ultimate aim of pleasing each partner. Here, bondage takes place behind secret doors, at sex parties, at the office, on a mountain hike, and, of course, at home.

Edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel

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Extract

The act of tying wasn’t, for Sybil, the best part. If she could have put Adam into a machine and he’d appear at the other end fully bound, exactly to her specifications, she’d have been content. Or a quick, single one-two of clamping his wrists and ankles down or to the bedposts; that she did enjoy, the grip of his straining limbs under hers. The binding, the elaborate act of it—those were for Adam. That was what he loved.

For her, foreplay was listening to him breathe—the gasps, the sharp intakes of breath, a whistling kettle, puppy-pants—as his mobility grew more restricted. He’d fight at her hands and the rope—not a token gesture, but not a true pushback—and with each of her victories, his face would fall, his lips parting, eyelashes fluttering.

All the time, his cock, which she’d left free, was growing harder, and harder.

It is strange to discover the hidden desires of a lover. Especially when you, for so long, assumed that your own were dark and dangerous, something to be kept hidden in the underbrush, masked, only to be brought out in the most overt of fashions, while your lovers were simple, as plain as butter on toast, and easy to satisfy.

Strange, but less a shock, than a moment of preternatural recognition. The moment had come, some months ago, when Sybil, straddling Adam, lunged forward, and, only meaning to be playful—seem playful—grabbed his wrists, and held them down on the pillow above his head. Adam’s eyes dilated like petals folding in the moonlight, and his cock, already stiff inside her, throbbed.

Sybil too went still, not quite willing to believe what Adam’s body had shown her. Slowly, she tightened her grip on his wrists, and said, “You like that?”

“Yes,” he breathed, bucking his hips up to hers.

She leaned closer, nose to nose, and whispered, “So do I.”

Sybil rode him, and didn’t let go of his wrists once.

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