Bound for Trouble

by Alison Tyler

  Copyright © 2014 by Pretty Things Press.

  All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, television, or online reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published in the United States by Cleis Press, Inc.,

  2246 Sixth Street, Berkeley, California 94710.

  Cover design: Scott Idleman/Blink

  Cover photograph: © Steve Kraitt/cultura/Corbis

  Text design: Frank Wiedemann

  First Edition.

  10987654321

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62778-044-5

  All June I bound the rose in sheaves,

  Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.

  —Robert Browning

  Contents

  Introduction

  Tea or Coffee? • TAMSIN FLOWERS

  Simple Pleasures • SOPHIA VALENTI

  Paper Chains • ANNABETH LEONG

  Ropenosis • TERESA NOELLE ROBERTS

  I, Robot • HEIDI CHAMPA

  Magic Boots • AMY DILLON

  One Rope • GRAYDANCER

  Discovering Her Wrists, Bound • SASKIA WALKER

  In Her Sights • KIKI DELOVELY

  Deeper • BEATRIX ELLROY

  Unwinding Alice • BENJAMIN ELIOT

  My Pretty Pony • D. L. KING

  Monthly • VIDA BAILEY

  Doing It By the Book • TILLY HUNTER

  Sex Party Magic • KRISTY LIN BILLUNI

  The Other Side of the Ropes • KATHLEEN TUDOR

  Business Wear • K. LYNN

  The Kissing Party • RACHEL KRAMER BUSSEL

  That’s Not a Scrunchie • GISELLE RENARDE

  Valles Marineris • LAILA BLAKE

  What She Has • SOMMER MARSDEN

  Through the Door • ANDREA DALE

  Sitting Pretty • ALISON TYLER

  About the Authors

  About the Editor

  INTRODUCTION

  Bondage. I still get a shiver down my spine when I say that word. I love the way the hard B sounds. I love the images that bloom in my mind when I consider what the term encompasses.

  Believe it or not, this is my tenth bondage-themed collection for Cleis Press. (Where did the time go?) From Best Bondage Erotica to Slave to Love to Hurts So Good, I have been a busy little editor, collecting the very best BDSM stories for your pleasure.

  With Bound for Trouble I’ve uncovered new jewels, glimmering examples of the ultimate in erotic writing. Every writer in this book focuses on a different facet of the bondage theme. Some characters use tools, some words, one uses paper chains. There are male subs and femme-dommes and the reverse. But what these writers have in common is the same type of fascination that I have with the theme. I am addicted. Obsessed. Plain and simple, I’m bound for trouble.

  To Sophia Valenti, bondage means:

  Perfectly still. That’s how I wanted him. Unable to move, unable to speak. Unable to schedule yet another meeting or conference call. I wanted him to stop moving and be fully present in the moment, instead of rushing through it because he was already planning the next one.

  To Tamsin Flowers, bondage means:

  I’m half kneeling on the bed, with my face in the pillows and my arse in the air. With a rip my panties are gone. I feel his hands slowly caress my naked buttocks and a shiver of anticipation runs through me.

  To Teresa Noelle Roberts, bondage means:

  A length of soft rope, cooler than the warm June air, passed over the bare skin of my belly. I sighed and leaned back against him. He was shirtless but still had jeans on, and the contrasting textures of denim and furred skin, along with the texture of the rope, pushed away the day’s petty concerns. “We’re trying something new tonight,” he purred in my ear.

  To Kiki DeLovely, bondage means:

  She regards me with such intensity I feel desperately vulnerable and still somehow safe enough to let her in. Though she needs no invitation. Lux fully knows this is hers for the taking. So she takes it and I accept my role as a willing sacrifice, laying my body down before her. I allow her to forge away at her own pace; accept whatever is left when she is done. Her eyes taste every last curve.

  To Rachel Kramer Bussel, bondage means:

  I tried to prepare myself for the rush of blood about to flood my tender flattened buds, but you can never truly be ready. That’s part of the thrill of kink for me—the unexpected, the way even the most familiar activity can catch you off guard, make you feel like a virgin all over again as the pain crashes down.

  To Andrea Dale, bondage means:

  To be tied down—or strapped or chained or whatever—was the crucial act. To be made to believe I was helpless. (I wouldn’t be, with the safeword, but still.) Helpless to whatever she wanted to do to me, pain or pleasure. Helpless to whatever she wanted me to do: come or not come, react or wait in excruciating anticipation.

  Each writer approaches this subject in a bold, unique way—but all of the stories are tied together with one chrome-colored theme: bondage.

  Flip the pages. Choose a story. Whether you’re an aficionado like myself, or a neophyte to this dark, velvet world, get ready to be Bound for Trouble.

  XXX,

  Alison

  TEA OR COFFEE?

  Tamsin Flowers

  So, hell, now I find myself hog-tied, wrists bound to ankles with silky red rope, in the swanky riverside apartment of some guy that, until just over an hour ago, I’d never laid eyes on. All I’ve got on is a pair of black lace panties and a pair of Rupert Sanderson stilettos, having left my dignity somewhere over by the door. I’ve never been tied up before, I’ve never been spanked before and I’ve certainly no idea what’s going to happen next. And I have to say, I think I’m enjoying myself. But how the fuck did I get myself into this in the first place?

  I think it was something I said.

  Tonight was an evening that came with expectations built in. An expectation of meeting someone, the anticipation of excitement or of disappointment, a feeling that one thing might lead to another. Speed dating. It wasn’t my first time but it was definitely the first time that the one thing had actually led to another. Previous outings on the speed-dating merry-go-round had been underwhelming but, eternal optimist that I am, I couldn’t see any harm in giving it another go and—hey presto—it seems to have delivered.

  This is how it went down. The first two guys that sat in the hot seat opposite me were dull. One was tongue-tied, while the other couldn’t stop talking. About himself. The third man was nice but ancient. The fourth, good looking but weird. But the fifth was interesting. Tall, I noticed as he approached my table. Confident, authoritative, he had the air of someone used to being in control. He sat down and gave me an appraising look; there was no trying to hide the fact that he was looking me over, checking me out. I might not have liked a look like that in a different situation but I wasn’t gonna kid myself—this is what we were both here for, after all.

  I looked him up and down, too, and he was some physical specimen. Strong jaw, broad shoulders, beautiful hands and a luxuriant head of burnished copper hair. His dark eyes held mine until I felt compelled to look away.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Vayle. Yours?”

  “Lucas.”

  Our eyes met once again. There was a certain intensity to his stare that made me want to find out more about him. Made me want to touch him or see him without his clothes.

  “What do you do?” I said.

  “Tea or coffee?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Do you drink tea or coffee
?” His voice held a note of impatience.

  “Coffee.”

  “Whisky or gin?”

  “Gin.”

  “Chanel or Prada?”

  “Prada.”

  “Negligee or naked?”

  “Naked.”

  There was no pause between questions, no time for me to consider the answers I was giving. It was like a game of word association and I was happy to play along.

  “Oral or anal?”

  I faltered for a second and then said “Both.”

  “Top or bottom?”

  “Bottom.”

  Lucas suddenly stood up.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said, holding out a hand to me.

  I glanced around the room. The other participants were busy talking as fast as they could to get in all they needed to say before their four minutes ran out. The man at the table next to mine, my next prospect in other words, was ugly beyond ugly. Lucas was good looking and unpredictable.

  “I’m with you,” I said, pulling my coat off the back of my chair and grabbing my bag.

  So that’s how it all started. He took me to a bar and ordered me a gin and tonic.

  “Drink it,” he said, already halfway through his.

  He ordered us each another. There was no doubt who was in control. Lucas set the agenda, and I was content to sit back and enjoy the ride.

  “I’d like you to come back to my apartment,” he said. “Would you consider it?”

  I knew what that meant. He wanted to have sex with me. And after two gins and a month-long sex drought, I wanted to have sex with him. He seemed like someone who would know what he was doing.

  Lucas did know what he was doing and now I’m lying on my back on his bed, tied up and virtually naked. He walks across the room toward me, still fully dressed in a crisp white shirt and sharply tailored gray trousers. He’s taken off his shoes and socks and his belt is undone, flapping around the waistband of his pants. He has thoroughly kissed me and I have allowed him to undress me and tie me up. I feel sexually charged, wet and ready for his pleasure and mine.

  He stands over me, looking down, and I can read naked lust in his eyes.

  “Safeword?” he says.

  More word association?

  “Firebreak.”

  Then he flips me over, so now I’m half kneeling on the bed, with my face in the pillows and my arse in the air. With a rip my panties are gone. I feel his hands slowly caress my naked buttocks and a shiver of anticipation runs through me.

  “God, you have a beautiful arse,” he says.

  Warm juices are pooling high in my cunt and I know that if I shift my position, they’ll flood down my leg. I hold as still as I can, relishing the thought of how that’s going to feel. But then Lucas trails a finger down my arsecrack and round to the soft folds of flesh between my legs. He discovers the reservoir of my desire and I hear his breath hitching in his throat.

  “You’re so ready to play, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I say. “So ready.”

  And he uses his hand to spread my wetness forward to my clit, which hardens at his brief touch, and back between my buttocks, making me arch my back to push them higher in the air.

  “There’s only one thing I can do to a beautiful arse like yours,” he whispers, his face close to my ear as one hand runs down my back in a long stroke.

  “It’s all yours,” I say. “Do what you need to.”

  Lucas steps away from me and bends to open a drawer in the bedside cabinet. I hear him rifling through stuff and wonder what he’s doing; looking for a condom, I hope, a little belatedly given my situation. But when he straightens up, it’s not a condom that he has in his hand. It’s a red leather paddle and he’s using his other hand to test its flexibility. He slaps it against his palm a couple of times; the slapping noise has some weight behind it and deep inside me muscles clench. Goose bumps rise and I would be lying if I said I’m not scared. But at the same time I’m excited, more excited and more turned on than I can ever remember being.

  I shut my eyes and bite my lip, waiting for the first slap. A soft caress of my left buttock takes me by surprise and relaxes me a split second before the paddle makes contact with my right. I gasp as the sting radiates through my flesh, leaving a burn on the surface and a spasm deep within. A cool hand assuages the burning sensation, but then my left buttock falls victim to the paddle’s bite. I shriek at the shock of it as it burns a path through me, waking up feelings and desires, making me shiver as I realize I want to feel it again.

  And it comes again, on the other side once more, adding another layer of pain, building on the last one, and then again, like a series of seismic waves, shaking me to the core. I’m breathing fast as a firestorm grows between my legs; each soft caress Lucas administers between the blows becomes torture in its own right as I push back against his hand, willing it to stay there, to press harder, to slide down between my cheeks, to press his way into me, into my arse, into my cunt, to fill me up as my muscles clench around him, as I reach that perfect moment…but he doesn’t do it. He withdraws his hand and replaces it with the sting and bite of the paddle, making me cry out again or making me bite my lip.

  “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he whispers in my ear at one point.

  “Yes,” I hiss.

  And I realize that he’s right. I might not have known it before; it was beyond the realm of my experience. But this is what I’ve needed all along. This is what’s been missing so far. The thoughts blur as the pain builds and the longing for fulfillment sweeps over me again and again.

  Then I hear the paddle drop to the floor. In the silence that follows, I can hear Lucas breathing heavily, either with the exertion or excitement. Both I think. He pulls something from the drawer. A condom this time; I hear the rip of the package. Seconds later, the soft firm nudge of his cock. He guides it up and down between my buttocks and then lets it slide down and lie along the folds of my labia. I push myself against it, moaning softly with my need to feel it plunging deep inside.

  “Where would you like it, babe?” he says.

  He teases me with a finger, first sliding it slickly into my cunt and then, once it’s wet and slippery, easing it into my butt, making me gasp loudly. It feels so good both times I can’t decide.

  “Wherever you like,” I say.

  “Good answer,” he says. “But first I’m going to untie you.”

  Seconds later my wrists are free and Lucas places my hands gently on the top of the headboard.

  “Hold tight,” he instructs.

  I do as I’m bid, stretching my back up; I’m still kneeling on the bed, holding the headboard, awaiting his pleasure. He’s kneeling on the bed behind me. He uses a hand to spread my legs wide and I feel his fingers parting my labia. Then, ever so slowly, he pushes the tip of his cock upward into my cunt. He’s large, one of the largest I’ve ever had, and it’s a good, tight fit. With his hands on my shoulders, he rams it home, and then his hands slide round my sides to cup my breasts. He pulls me back against him and starts rolling his hips to draw himself in and out. Now my body’s arching against his as his big cock grazes its way up and down against the sweet spot inside.

  An orgasm starts to bubble softly as he sweeps in and out. Then suddenly he changes the game. Lucas pushes me forward and his hands pull my buttocks wide apart. From somewhere he grabs lube and I feel a shock of cold down the length of my crack; his fingers getting me ready. Without a change in the rhythm, he pushes his cock into my yielding arse. My orgasm explodes on the first stroke, making my muscles clench hard around him. With a cry as loud as my own, he comes, his cock surging and throbbing within me. I can feel its heat and I can feel the pulse of his climax, the sensations stoking my own. My body spasms again and then the heat starts to dissipate.

  I feel limp and wrung out, and there’s a final bite of pain as he pulls out his cock. We slump together on the bed, our bodies slick with sweat, awash with the smell of sex. I wait for the pulse
s to subside and slowly my breathing returns to normal. Lucas, still panting, peels off the rubber and drops it over the side of the bed. Then he flips me onto my back and straddles me. His face is serious as he looks down on me.

  “You’d never been spanked before, had you?”

  I shake my head, still not trusting myself to talk.

  “You’d never been tied up?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve had no experience of domination and submission?”

  “No.”

  “Did you know you could have stopped me with your safeword?”

  I swallow.

  “I didn’t want you to stop. I wanted it to go on.”

  His eyes soften.

  “When I asked you, ‘Top or bottom?’ what did you think I meant?”

  “Top or bottom bunk.”

  I feel stupid.

  He climbs off me and off the bed, walking over to the window. The lights of the city are spread out before him.

  “Lucas?” I whisper. “Don’t send me away.”

  He turns around and his eyes still have the soft expression.

  “You’ll need to be trained. I want a lover who’s willing to wear my collar. Could you do that?”

  I don’t know what he means, but I want to find out.

  “Yes, Lucas. Please train me.”

  So that’s how it went down on that evening of expectations. It was all due to something I said. I wonder what would have happened if I’d said “top”?

  SIMPLE PLEASURES

  Sophia Valenti

  Perfectly still. That’s how I wanted him. Unable to move, unable to speak. Unable to schedule yet another meeting or conference call. I wanted him to stop moving and be fully present in the moment, instead of rushing through it because he was already planning the next one.

  I understood where he was coming from, I really did. Marco was a busy man. His life was a maelstrom of appointments. Between meetings, travel, and business engagements masquerading as social events, it was a wonder we found any time to date. Though I’ll admit that sometimes he managed to fit me in by double booking. Trust me, I’d gone to my fair share of corporate shindigs, during which I’d smile and make polite conversation that was only interrupted when impossibly slender wannabe actors would wander by with trays of tiny food. The servers would flash their professionally whitened smiles, but when I looked into their eyes, I could tell they’d rather be somewhere else. It was similar to the look of longing I’d see in Marco’s eyes at the end of a tiring day, when he’d let his guard down. I knew he loved his work, but he was wrapped up in a tangle of obligations. Having taken control of his family’s business, he was determined to make it even more successful than it had already been. Pride and ambition fueled him, but he didn’t know how to switch off those feelings in order to recharge.