Best Bondage Erotica of the Year, Volume 2

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  Talia inhaled and let her hands rest in place as she visualized the keys in her head. She knew every note, but she always kept the sheet music in front of her, second-guessing herself. Dimitri knew that. He was testing her, forcing her to see her gift as he did, and he wouldn’t let her fail. She’d get it right, perfect, like every time before, or he’d force her to play it again until she did. She wouldn’t disappoint him. She couldn’t.

  She pressed her fingers to the ivories and let the music take hold. Every note rang true and though she couldn’t see him, she was certain Dimitri was watching her, smiling. He was right; her technique was perfect. After months of preparing for that night’s recital, Talia had mastered Chopin’s Fantaisie-Impromptu. When the final note dissipated into the quiet, she pulled the tie covering her eyes down to her neck and turned to face Dimitri, who stood beside the piano.

  He smiled. “See? Perfection.”

  Talia wanted to return his smile, but she couldn’t be satisfied until she was confident in all aspects of her performance, and according to Dimitri, she lacked personality. “Yes, I suppose you were right, but what good is my playing if I bore everyone?”

  “The solution to that is simple.” Dimitri leaned toward her and placed his hands against the bench on either side of her, forcing her to lean back. “Show them passion, ma chèrie . . . that same look of fantasy you give me.” His lips brushed against hers, stealing her breath before he turned his attention to her neck. He drew at the flesh above her collarbone and slid his hand up her shirt, beneath her bra, so he could caress her breast. He waited for a sigh to escape her before pulling back. He looked down at her flushed face with a grin. “Oui, just like that.” He cupped her cheek. “Absolutely captivating.”

  Talia diverted her glance and placed her hands on his chest. She tried to focus on her breathing and ignore the tension mounting in her core with Dimitri’s knee pressed between her legs. “I couldn’t . . . it’s too embarrassing. Besides, it’s not that kind of song.”

  “Oh, it is, I assure you.” He rose and took her hands in his, pulling her up with him. He held her against him. “Allow me to show you.” Dimitri traced the skin of her inner thigh with his fingertips until he found her center.

  Talia pushed away, startled. “Dimitri, we can’t.” She looked around the stage hall. She knew she was blushing by the heat in her cheeks. “Not here.”

  “I am afraid this lesson cannot wait, Talia.” A smirk crept across his lips as he approached her, backing her up against the piano. “The space is ours for now, but should someone interrupt . . . Well, I do enjoy an audience.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her hips against him as he took her mouth with his.

  Talia surrendered. She draped her arms around the back of his neck and parted her lips so his tongue could meet hers. She wanted him and Dimitri knew it. She was his from the moment he’d first kissed her three years ago and with every new taste she fell harder, deeper, until she’d given him complete control.

  Dimitri parted from her, allowing her to catch her breath. “You will grow wet each time you hear Fantaisie-Impromptu once I am done with you.” He ran his fingers through her hair until they were just below the base of her skull. He gripped a handful of her locks and pulled her head back, turning her back to him. He shoved her against the piano and bent her before him, then hiked up her skirt to see the red lace underneath. He was powerless against her, weak. To Talia, he was in control, but in truth, she consumed him. Dimitri ached for her and it was all he could do to avoid coming undone. He needed her, but first he wanted her to mirror his trembling passion. He grabbed her hips and pulled her ass against his erection, letting her anticipation build. He pressed further, the weight of his chest against her back as he cupped her breasts. He thrust against her once, teasing the penetration he knew she longed for. He could see her ache in the moisture gathering between her legs. He could feel it in the way she arched against him, and he could hear it in her voice as she pleaded for more. He understood her desire because his was the same, and he wouldn’t stop until he’d played every chord. Her ecstasy was his aria. He kissed just below the back of her ear and whispered, “Wait here,” before pulling away, slowly, inch by inch.

  Talia nodded and waited for Dimitri to disappear behind the curtains before she straightened and adjusted her skirt. Though he was only gone a few moments, her need made it seem painfully deliberate. She squirmed to try and quell her eagerness, but once Dimitri lit her fire there was no escape, not until he filled her with his own lust.

  When Dimitri returned, he was holding a small black carrying case. He beckoned her over to the bench where he sat with his back to the grand piano. He unzipped the case and opened it across his lap. Inside was a tuning kit with a tuning hammer, wrench, awl, and tone tuning fork, but it was a red temperament strip that he removed before sliding the kit across the stage. He placed the temperament strip beside him and crossed his legs. “Strip.”

  Talia gave a sheepish nod as she stepped out of her heels. She knew the difference between Dimitri asking something of her and commanding her to do it, and with sex, Dimitri never asked for anything. It was always an order and Talia submitted to his want willingly, always satisfied in the end—always in ways she’d never been before. She unbuttoned her blouse, one black button at a time. She focused on her hands, glancing at Dimitri from time to time. His gaze was transfixed as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, taking her in. She let her shirt slide from her shoulders onto the floor. She did the same with her bra before moving to her skirt, letting it fall to her ankles before stepping out of it. Dimitri stopped her before she could remove the last bit of lace.

  “No, leave them on.” He curled his index finger in toward himself, calling her to him. He stood to meet her, the red felt temperament strip curled in his hand. He placed one end of the strip on the inside of the piano, along the far edge, before closing the lid, locking it in place. He turned back to Talia and tapped his finger against the smooth finish. “Up here, mon amour. On your back, with your hands above your head.”

  She was hesitant, realizing again that they weren’t in private . . . that any moment someone else could walk in, find her lying naked on the symphony’s grand piano. She found it both exciting and embarrassing, but she couldn’t deny him. The longer she took to follow through, the longer he’d make her wait to feel him. She stood on the bench and crawled over the keys onto the cool surface of the lid. She lay back as Dimitri instructed and he grabbed her wrists, placing them close together before binding them tightly with the felt strip anchored beneath the lid.

  He walked around the side and helped Talia raise her head so he could reapply his silk tie to impede her vision. “I want every note pressed into you, so you may relive the sensation each time you play.” He removed the wearable, pulse-vibrating metronome he kept like a watch on his wrist and parted Talia’s legs. He slipped the band beneath the front lace of her thong and adjusted it so the metronome nestled tightly against her clit, causing her to squirm. He forced her thighs together and removed his belt to keep them that way so her movements wouldn’t undo his work once he started.

  Talia’s heart raced as the ache between her legs washed over her body. She didn’t know what Dimitri had placed against her, but she twisted against her restraints, wanting more—desperately. She longed for release, but Dimitri viewed pleasure as the perfect crescendo: slow, gradual, until the melody overpowered all else. She couldn’t take it. Her want was torture. “Dimitri, please, it’s too much.”

  Dimitri programmed the metronome through the app on his phone to set the pulse vibration to the song’s time. “Sweet, Talia, petit a petit, l’oiseau fait son ni. What have I told you about practicing patience?” He placed the phone next to the sheet music in front of him and took one last look at Talia as she suffered the anticipation. “We have only just begun, so you will need to plead harder than that.” He pressed his phone to activate the metronome as he struck the first chord.

  Tal
ia felt the chord move through her, from the vibration of sound against her back to the metronome pulsating between her legs, keeping time with Dimitri. A moan escaped her as she writhed against the melody. She didn’t have to see Dimitri to know that his focus was on the piece. She’d seen him play enough times to know how easily he succumbed to the music, how passionate he was with every note, in every movement. Dimitri was music, and that only made her want him more. The melody was a piece of her too now, and she was beginning to see things as he did. The piece was more than just sixteenth notes against triplets; it was a tale, one of longing, desire the initial kindling of a flame before it settled into a season of warmth, love, and an everlasting, burning, passion.

  Talia neared her breaking point as the piece crept back into presto. She cried out to Dimitri between heated breaths. “I can’t take much more.” But his focus remained on the music, until he gently hit the last Picardy third, holding the chord until Talia climaxed. Her back arched slightly and her legs shook as she felt every note thrust into her. The mounting pressure in her core released into a pulsing ecstasy . . . each wave a new chord, a new progression of pleasure. It was harmony.

  Dimitri paused the metronome and released his hold on the last C♯ as Talia’s sighs softened into hastened breaths. He stood and traced his fingertips along her quivering thigh. He undid the belt holding her legs together and slowly removed the metronome, which was wet with her excitement. Dimitri smiled and pocketed the wristband. “Is it safe to say you see my side now?” He lifted the tie covering her eyes and she looked up at him, still feeling the ecstasy of her bondage. He stroked her cheek. “There it is; that look is intoxicating.” He removed the felt binding her hands and helped her sit up and slip off the piano lid.

  Her legs were weak, and she fell against his chest as her feet touched the ground. “I think I get it now.”

  “Oui, I knew you would. You have always been an exceptional student.” Dimitri placed his thumb beneath her chin and lifted her gaze to his. “However, we are not done here.” Dimitri grinned. “Put on your heels . . . quickly.”

  “Of course.” Talia stumbled forward slightly as she regained the strength in her legs. She still longed for Dimitri and until it was with him, no orgasm would be enough. So she slipped on her heels and hurried over to him.

  He pushed the bench aside and welcomed her next to the keys. He stepped behind her and faced her toward the piano as he had before, only this time Talia was forced to hold onto the piano top and her breasts brushed against the cool keys, causing her to gasp. The chill ran through her, heightening her need for Dimitri’s warmth.

  Dimitri slipped the last piece of red lace down her legs, revealing her heat. He placed his palm on the inside of her thigh as he crouched below her. “Spread your legs, ma chèrie.” He waited for her to do so before straightening slightly. He ran his tongue along her opening before tasting her fully. She shuddered as he dipped his tongue inside her, causing her breasts to fall against the keyboard, creating their own chord. His own need began to be too much. He wanted to be inside her, sending her over the edge again and again until his lust was satisfied . . . and with her, it was never enough. He always wanted more, needed more . . . from her and only her. He was addicted the moment he first kissed her and there was no going back.

  He let his fingers follow his tongue’s previous path as he stood. He continued to feel her, letting his fingers sink deeper with every reentry as he unzipped his pants. He shifted his hand to the small of her back, forcing her to lift her hips.

  Talia sighed and her hand slipped from the piano top onto the keys. The mixed chord rang out and masked her increasing moans.

  He pressed the head of his cock against her clit before tracing it along her center. He was slow to enter her, savoring her warmth before finally pushing into her fully. He wrapped his arm beneath her lower waist to help her maintain her arch so she could take in all of him, touching the deepest parts of her.

  Talia gasped as he filled her emptiness. He drove into her with quick, hard thrusts and tangled his hand in her hair, pulling her head back slightly. “Dimitri, don’t stop, please.”

  This time, he’d let her have her wish, but only because his desire was the same. He continued pumping into her until her legs began to quiver. She was close. He removed himself from her and quickly turned her to face him. He hooked his hands behind her knees and lifted her up onto him. He leaned her back against the piano, his hand separating her back from the hard edge above the ivories, and propped his foot up on the piano bench for the leverage he needed to thrust into her the way they both desired.

  Talia threw her head back and she gripped Dimitri’s shoulders tightly as she came a second time. The throes of her pleasure were rhythmic, a pulsing between her legs to her toes and up through her body. It was a gradual melody, growing until it was overpowering: Dimitri’s perfect crescendo. The warmth, electric and euphoric, consumed her.

  Dimitri continued his stride, not letting her pleasure cease until they could do so as one. “Kiss me, Talia.”

  She pressed her lips to his and as their mouths opened to taste one another they lost themselves to each other until neither had anything left.

  Talia finished buttoning her blouse as she sat beside Dimitri on the piano bench. She leaned against his shoulder once she was finally dressed and he kissed the top of her head with a smile.

  “So, then, mon amour, are you now prepared to truly embody the piece?” He draped his arm over her shoulder and squeezed her gently.

  She nodded and kissed his cheek. “I think so.”

  “Très bien!” Dimitri quickly rose to his feet. “Then let us see.” He was already hurrying back down the steps into the audience before Talia could object.

  She waited for him to be seated before she turned back to the piano. She took a breath and closed her eyes.

  Dimitri watched in earnest. As always, she hit every note, only this time he knew she could feel them too. He was absolutely captivated.

  ACTIVIST

  Sienna Saint-Cyr

  The bark dug into my bare flesh as I struggled against the rope. A strange mixture of emotion hit me as I realized the predicament I was in. I’d signed up for this. In the pit of my stomach, I sensed I was going to regret agreeing to Nikki Sinclair’s protest. “Save the trees,” she’d said. “It’ll be fun,” she’d said. If only her sweet candy scent and plump crimson lips hadn’t been so mesmerizing.

  Birds chirped and sang a joyous song in the pre-morning hour. They mocked and reassured me at the same time. I couldn’t see them, but I heard them as they flittered about in the evergreens above.

  Nikki smiled a deviant smile and snapped the rope circling my breasts as though it were a rubber band.

  “Ouch!”

  Her smile widened. Her fair skin seemed to glow under the artificial light. The red hair curling around her cheeks looked almost surreal.

  “Come now, little Jess, surely you’ve been bound before. You did give that wonderful presentation in class about BDSM and all the ways in which you find bondage lovely.” Nikki’s words were thick with implication, and temptation.

  I swallowed. “Yes, but . . .” My words faded. I couldn’t respond.

  “But what?”

  “This is . . . different,” I said as her finger circled my nipple.

  “How so?”

  Is she really asking me that?

  “I, well. . . . My play has always taken place in a dungeon. This is . . . not that.” My voice was shakier than usual. It cracked. Each time, Nikki looked into my eyes as though searching for meaning.

  She pressed into me, her white sweater soft against my skin, pushing through the crisscross of the ropes. I breathed out hard and squirmed. My nipples hardened under her pressure and my squirming ass rubbed against the bark. It stung as it tore at my flesh, but felt so good too. I wanted more. I leaned forward enough to let my lips touch hers, but she pulled back.

  “Not yet, eager little Jess.” Nikki bac
ked away and cleaned the mess of excess rope she’d left. She stuffed the extras into a large black bag and laid some safety scissors at my feet.

  “At least you came prepared,” I said.

  Nikki laughed. “Of course I did. This may be a protest, but safety first.”

  “This isn’t just a protest though, right?” I squirmed again. “I mean, you did ask me out for the purposes of play. We negotiated terms.”

  Nikki didn’t answer aloud. Again, she cast her wickedly seductive smile. She had too much power over me, and I loved it.

  Sun peeked through some trees as the light of early morning lit the area. Nikki extinguished her lamp and tucked it by the bag. The more the sun penetrated the dark woods, the clearer my surroundings became. As I looked around, I saw an area to my right where so many trees had already been cleared. Cut down to stumps. My heart ached at the emptiness. To my left, I saw thousands of trees still standing. Tall evergreens that seemed to touch the skyline.

  I looked back at Nikki, completely silent. I understood what she was doing. During our cultural studies class, we’d all shared something that was important to us. For me, it was the kink community. They had embraced me in my queerness when no one in my small town had. For Nikki, it was stopping the clear-cutting happening on the outskirts of town. No one knew why it was happening, but many were trying to stop it. Nikki was giving me something I wanted, and she was getting something she wanted in return—my naked body tied to a tree long enough that the judge could sign a temporary order to stop the clear-cutting. Even a temporary order would be progress.