The Big Book of Submission: 69 Kinky Tales

by Rachel Bussel

“Take all your clothes off. Turn slowly while you do so I can see every curve.” He spoke soft and deep. “Then get on your knees with your hands clasped behind your back. Open your mouth wide enough to hold a dick.”

  I couldn’t stop grinning as I did what he instructed, complete with lots of hip wiggling and butt bouncing. My show earned me a hard smack on my bare butt. I squealed and petted the spot where he struck me, relishing the new feeling. My ass burned from the single contact, then melted into a warm heat across my whole bottom. I’d been officially spanked and, well, I liked it.

  As soon as I got into position on my knees, Wes took a finger and stuffed it deep in my mouth.

  “Suck it like a cock. Flick your tongue on the creases between the digits. Yeah, that’s a good girl.”

  He braided a hand in my hair to hold my head still while he forced me to take two fingers, then three. I could see his growing erection through his jeans. When my hands left my back to reach for his zipper, he momentarily let go of my hair and smacked them back down to my sides.

  “You don’t have permission. I see I’m going to have to train you from the beginning.”

  He went over to the box and pulled out leather handcuffs and tethers, pushed me facedown on the floor and held me there while he cuffed and tied me, face and upper body against the floor, ass stuck in the air. He stroked his cock through his jeans, dry humping my right asscheek until my pussy grew so wet it smeared my thighs. I wanted him to fuck me so bad.

  He rose, walked over to the computer desk in the corner and signed on, completely ignoring me.

  “Wes?”

  “Don’t make me gag you. I don’t do that on a first date, but if you keep talking, you’ll leave me no choice.”

  That was my WTF moment. Yes, I wanted exotic and hot sex of the extreme sport variety, but tossed on the floor and forgotten? I struggled in my bonds and my tummy fluttered with the thrill of my complete helplessness. My pussy grew even wetter. The passing time only let me meditate and mentally masturbate on my predicament.

  “You really need to delete your browser history. The things you’ve been studying? Good for me to know, but makes me wonder about the educators of our impressionable teenagers.”

  He reached in the box and pulled out a black leather paddle. “How does it feel to be tied up like that little computer glossy you gave me? You like it?”

  “Yes, Wes. Fuck me please.”

  “You are not in any position to give me a list of demands. Fuck you while you’re trussed up like a wild animal on my floor?” He ran a finger down the length of my spine. “Really?”

  He smacked my butt with the paddle. First one cheek, then the other. Tears formed in my eyes and ran down my cheeks. When I grew to expect it on one side, he changed his pattern and landed another blow in the matching spot on the opposite cheek.

  “Are you actually getting wetter as I spank you? Now that kind of naughty behavior will get a girl fucked.”

  He positioned himself behind my burning ass and stuffed his entire length into me, withdrew almost to the tip of his cock and plowed into me again. He gripped my tender buttcheeks and made me wail as he rode me. I came like that, faster and harder than I ever had before. Instead of petting me and coaxing me down from my orgasmic high like he usually does, Wes upped his game and made me come again, sooner than I ever thought possible, then pulled out in the seconds before his own hips shuddered and smeared my ass with his come like they do in the porn I’d been watching.

  “This is a good beginning. I would like to go deeper with you, but I need you to understand something. I enjoy giving you a little pain with my pleasure, but I won’t permanently harm you. Cut you. Scar you. I love you, Alicia, but if you feel like you need those things, I can’t give them to you.”

  Finally, there was that moment—the one when my reddened bottom, sticky with his come, wearing sensations I’d feel for days, every time I tried to sit down, spoke to me. That moment when I knew beyond all doubts that I’d fallen in love. There would be no other for me.

  “I’m not your ex, Wes. I only want what you’re willing to give.”

  I sobbed into the shag carpet, loving his hands petting my hair and his gentle kiss soothing the small of my back.

  THE DINNER

  Erzabet Bishop

  Comfortable?” Sir’s cool gray eyes stared into mine over our glasses of house wine. I had to struggle not to fidget.

  “No.” I flinched, gasping, as he powered up the vibrating egg he’d placed inside me before we left the car. My pussy began to clench around it and I had to grit my teeth not to cry out as his hand reached underneath the table to stroke my leg. I was so close to coming, it wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge.

  “No, what?” His words curled around me like smoke as his hand slid up my inner thigh. I hitched my breath as it eased closer and closer to my bare pussy. Tonight he’d insisted I go completely bare underneath the dress.

  “No, Sir.” I looked down at my barely eaten salad and groaned as his fingertips brushed against my mound. Thankfully, the lighting in the restaurant was dim. It was one of Sir’s favorite destinations when he was feeling adventurous. Glancing up at the table closest to me, I was relieved to see the couple talking amicably. The din of the other guests and clatter of silverware on plates combined with the soft classical music playing helped to disguise my moans. He flipped the switch again and eased his finger just inside my slick opening. I ground my pussy against his hand. As my clit brushed his thumb, my release thundered through me, uncontrollable in the force of my body’s need. Waves of fluid doused my inner thighs and I bit my lip, knowing he would be very displeased.

  “You were not to come without permission. You are being a very naughty girl tonight, Arin.” Sir watched me behind hooded lids, no doubt assessing the delicious torment he had in store. Pussy throbbing, I was ready for more.

  Trying to control my breathing, I reached for the glass of wine in an effort to calm myself. His touch was making me into a puddle of want. Picking up my fork, I stabbed some lettuce absently, preparing for what was to come next.

  I paused with the fork in midair; it quivered in my hand as I met his eyes. “Yes, Sir.” His finger edged inside of me once again, one finger becoming two, and I gave up all pretense of trying to eat. When he turned up the control on the egg, my fork clattered to the plate. Sucking in my breath, I looked up in alarm as a warning cloud settled on his features.

  “I think I was away on business too long.” He took a sip of wine, his eyes trailing over my breasts as they pushed out against the snug fabric of the dress.

  “Yes, Sir.” He withdrew his fingers and wiped them on the tablecloth.

  “I want you to get up, Arin, and go into the men’s room, remove the egg and wait for me there.”

  Panic caused me to suck in my breath. The men’s room? I hesitated in getting up and his stony expression darkened further. Uh-oh. I scrambled out of the seat and pulled my dress down as I stood on shaking legs. Not looking at him, I felt the thrill of whatever he was planning shiver down my spine. His two weeks out of the country had left me pining for his touch.

  I walked past the seated guests and made my way down the dark hallway to the restrooms. The bustle of the waiters and the laughter of the guests made the scene even more surreal.

  Opening the door to the luxurious bathroom, I was relieved to find no one inside. Making my way through the lush carpet and comfortable couches in the lounge area, I came to a stop in the main area of the bathroom. The marble counters and granite floors were breathtaking, but it was the mirrors that really made the pulse race in my veins. Reaching between my legs, I eased the small egg-shaped device out, wrapped it in a towel and placed it into my small clutch purse.

  The expansive wooden door opened behind me and in came Sir. He latched the door behind him. I swallowed. His full mouth had spread to a thin-lipped smile and his massive shoulders filled out the suit he was wearing for the evening. He removed his dark-gray jacket, hangin
g it on a coat hanger. His shock of black hair had mussed slightly; I had an urge to run my fingers through it, but I knew better until we were at home.

  “I shouldn’t have to discipline you here, my pet, but it seems you are woefully trying my patience this evening.” He rolled up the light blue sleeves of his dress shirt as he approached, moving like a caged tiger. “Lift your dress above your ass and bend over the counter.”

  A shiver of alarm sent electric pulses of desire through my lower body. My nipples tightened. I eased the dress over my hips and leaned forward, ass out. Sir undid the belt from his pants.

  “All right, kitten. Four lashes for coming before you were instructed. You will count with me.”

  I nodded, afraid to speak.

  He lifted his arm and brought the belt down over my ass.

  Whack!

  “One.” My voice wobbled as I blinked back the prickle of tears caused by the stinging heat.

  He raised his arm again, aiming for the other cheek. Whack!

  “Two. Thank you, Sir.” My eyes met his, before I noted the tenting in his trousers.

  “Good. Now again.”

  Whack! Whack! The belt singed my already tender flesh with fire. I yelped as the last two cracked against my asscheeks in rapid succession.

  “Three!” I panted. “Four!”

  “Good.” Sir placed the belt on the counter. I could hear the sound of a zipper as he moved in close behind me. As I watched him in the mirror, his eyes crackled with heat when they bored into mine. His cock sprang free and rested in the crack of my ass.

  “Arin,” he breathed as he found my entrance and mercilessly shoved himself inside of me. Thrusting deep, he stopped, our eyes never breaking contact in the mirror as he held me in place.

  “Harder,” I whispered, moaning as he teased me with his length. “Please, Sir. Fuck me.”

  “Yes,” he hissed. His hands dug into my hips, the fabric of his suit pants rubbing against my sore ass. His hips bucked, our bodies meeting in a frenzy of need.

  My breasts swung with each movement; his fingers grazed over them as he embedded his cock deep inside me and thrust with short, almost violent bursts. Moaning his need into my hair, he fucked me hard. His finger brushed my clit. “Come now.” My pussy spasmed around his cock as he filled me with his essence.

  “Lovely,” Sir whispered as he withdrew, sliding my dress down over my hips. He put himself back together and smoothed his hair, a devilish smile on his face. “Well, how about some chocolate mousse cake to go?”

  I grinned. “Yes, Sir. I couldn’t think of anything better.”

  ROOM WITH A VIEW

  Rose de Fer

  I bought the binoculars for bird-watching. Honest. But the wildlife is scarce on this row of terraced houses, and I always forgot to pack them when I went walking. I thought they’d just sit in their box forever. Then the new neighbors moved in.

  The previous tenants took the curtains with them when they went, leaving the inside of the upstairs flat opposite mine quite exposed. At first I simply enjoyed watching through the window as the couple moved in. They arranged furniture, put books on shelves, sorted clothes into dressers. Seeing the details of these little domestic chores was surprisingly intimate. Most of all I liked watching them assemble the fancy iron bedstead with its scrolled rails at the head and foot. The rest of their furniture was rather plain but the bed was a showpiece. It was what finally made me grab the binoculars.

  It sat in the center of the room, dominating the space like a stage. They made it up with satin sheets and a silk duvet all in red and black, topping it with a scattering of pillows. And when they were done they did what all loving couples do on their first night in their new home: they fucked.

  At first I felt guilty, and I put the binoculars down. But even without them my eye was drawn back to the naked window and the nakedness I could see through it. The man was slightly older. Older than her and older than me. Handsome and athletic. I couldn’t have appreciated that piercing gaze without the binoculars. It was little wonder his lovely wife had fallen under his spell.

  So I sat in the dark by my window, my left arm propped on the sill, the binoculars pressed to my eyes and my right hand pressed to my sex. Afterward, of course, I put the binoculars away and promised myself I wouldn’t spy on them again.

  Promises, promises.

  A week later they had unpacked completely but the window was still bare of curtains. I wondered if they had any idea just how much I could see. I should have done the neighborly thing and told them. Gone over with some tea and biscuits and a casual, “Oh, by the way, you do know I can see absolutely everything from across the road, don’t you?” But of course I didn’t.

  One evening they looked dressed for the opera—he in an elegant dinner suit and she in a lovely, clingy red satin gown. They never left the flat. They had a long, intense conversation in the bedroom and even without the binoculars I could tell there was a strange dynamic. Their body language intrigued me. She hung her head, clasping her hands nervously behind her back while he frowned down at her. Then she knelt on the floor before him. Heat surged through my body as she lifted her arms, offering him her wrists. He tied them with a little silk scarf and suddenly I understood the scrolled iron bed frame.

  My sex pulsed as he led her, not to the bed, but to the door. He pushed her back against it and looped her bound wrists up over the coat hook. Her face was flushed as she arched her back and rolled her hips invitingly. Then he tore open her dress at the front, exposing her breasts. I gasped at the sudden violence, as if the exposure were my own. With firm hands he traced the swell of her bare breasts, each dusky pink nipple stiffening beneath his touch. I pressed my legs together as he held up the riding crop.

  I could actually hear the muffled slap of each stinging stroke as he brought the little leather flap down, first on one breast, then the other. She yelped and tossed her head, her face flushed, her expression full of lust. I lost count at twenty.

  When he was done he piled the pillows high on the bed and fucked her ass. Nothing could have torn my eyes away.

  After that I watched them every night.

  Tonight it’s a new game.

  She stands before him in a pleated tartan miniskirt, a generous expanse of thigh on show between her black stockings and the hem of the skirt. Her tight white blouse is knotted together beneath her breasts, flaunting even more skin. He crosses his arms with frowning disapproval and shakes his head. I can guess what’s coming next.

  He seats himself on the side of the bed, facing the window. The authority in his expression makes me squirm. It makes her squirm too as she moves to his side and places herself across his lap. He strokes her back, running his hand down the curve of her spine, making her shudder. Then he lifts her skirt. Her girlish white knickers are a contrast with the rest of her sexy outfit, but he doesn’t let her keep them. He peels them down over her cheeks, baring the peach of her bottom. She’s trembling. So am I.

  When he starts to spank her I slip my hand down inside my own knickers, not at all surprised by the wetness I find there. It’s all I can do to hold the binoculars steady.

  She kicks her long legs and struggles as his hand comes down again and again on her bare bottom. Even in profile I can see her pale skin blushing to a rosy pink, then shading into red. The slaps ring out in the room but I’m not sure if I’m really hearing them or just imagining it. The binoculars make me feel as though I’m right there with them, nervously waiting my turn. I can almost feel a sympathetic sting in my own bottom.

  When he is satisfied that she’s been punished enough he lets her up and sits her on his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck, wriggling her bottom against his legs. No doubt she can feel the bulge growing in his trousers. After a moment she leans her head in and whispers something in his ear. She is smiling. He nods. Then he looks up, toward the window. Straight at me.

  I jump and almost drop the binoculars. I’m completely in shadow, hidden from view. How is it
possible…?

  Quickly, I raise the binoculars again, convinced I’m imagining things. But no. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face as he meets my eyes through the magnified lenses. He points directly at me, emphasizing what I already know. They’ve always known I was watching. I blush to the roots of my hair, embarrassed, terrified, exhilarated. He crooks his finger, summoning me. I don’t dare disobey.

  FITTING ASSIGNMENT

  Marie Rebelle

  Claire walked into the huge branch of a well-known lingerie store. She felt as if everyone in the shop was keeping an eye on her and knew the real reason for her visit to this store. An assignment. To calm her nerves and try to blend in, she wandered between the racks filled with lingerie, women’s wear and other sexy things. She pretended to be interested in several items. When she walked to the back of the shop toward the fitting rooms, she had two dresses, two nightdresses and two sweaters to try on.

  A friendly young woman took the items from her as she got to the counter at the entrance to the fitting rooms.

  “You can take four items into the cubicle with you, miss,” the friendly woman said. Claire nodded.

  “I’ll bring the other two items once you’re done trying these on,” the woman added. This remark increased Claire’s nervousness. She did not want to be disturbed. She needed to be left alone. Claire did not care to try on those last two items—information she could not share with the fitting-room assistant.

  She smiled at the woman just before the cubicle’s curtain fell into place. The two black dresses and the sweaters hung on hooks inside the cubicle. Claire had no intention of seeing how they looked on her. Against the back wall was a narrow bench. She unzipped her bag and took out her smartphone. Claire rummaged through her bag to find the special cradle that she’d bought earlier. She put the cradle in the corner of the narrow bench, switched the phone on, entered her PIN and activated the camera function. The phone had two camera lenses, one each in the front and back. Claire activated the lens in the front. When she put the phone in the cradle, she saw herself—no, she saw her skirt.