BDSM Mega Boxed Set

by Anita Lawless, C. J. Sneere, Roxxy Meyer

  “So how’re things with you?” he asked as he shuffled.

  “We’re going on a cruise next week,” I told him, my excitement brimming over. “Will you be okay without either of us around for a little while?”

  He waved me off. “Bah, of course. I’ll be fine. Go have fun.” Then he cast Dmitri a knowing smile. Or, at least, I thought he did. I wondered what was going on. “Besides,” he added. “Lucy promised to come by everyday you’re gone. I won’t get lonely.”

  Dmitri cleared his throat, and Dad bit his lip as if he’d said too much.

  Frowning, I glanced between the two of them. “Dad, did you already know about this cruise?”

  He wore a sheepish expression as he concentrated on his cards. Then he tossed his hand to the table and said to Dmitri, “Oh hell, do it here. Don’t wait till the boat.”

  Dmitri cast him a grin. “Well, I admit we have the same train of thought, Mr. Hanson. I did bring the ring with me.”

  “What’re you two going on about?” I said, my heart pounding hard in my chest. When I next looked to Dmitri, he was on his knees at my side.

  “Your father’s given me his blessing.” He pulled a burgundy, velvet box from his pocket. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” When he opened it, the cluster of diamonds nearly blinded me.

  Dad shouted, “Say yes!” before I could speak.

  A lump knotted up my throat, but I managed to say, “Yes,” around it.

  “Imagine that,” Dad said, as Dmitri planted a quick kiss to my forehead. “From his personal assistant to his life partner. You get your fairytale come true after all, sweetheart.” He smiled wide and squeezed my hand.

  As we walked down the hall from Dad’s room, I looked up at my husband to be. Then I stopped him before we turned the next corner. “How long have you and my father been meeting in secret?” My lips quirked up.

  “Whenever I’d come to visit Mom, I’d stop in to see your father.” He gave a hesitant look, as if he expected irritation from me. “I know, another secret. I had the best intentions, though.”

  I took his hand and rested my head against his arm. “It’s okay. I won’t hold it against you this time.”

  He laughed, then twirled me to face a wide gray door across from us. “You know,” he whispered close to my ear. “We should celebrate our engagement.”

  “We will when we get to your place,” I quipped, knowing lusty plans brewed in his mind.

  “I don’t think I can wait that long,” he growled against my neck, pushing me toward the door across the hall.

  Inside we found a small maintenance room with a folding table and a stool. Dmitri locked the door behind us, and my stomach tightened at the snick of the latch. In a tiny niche at the back of this space, two coat hooks hung on opposite sides of the nook.

  “Remove your clothes, Mistress,” he said to me, after leading me to this opening.

  I assumed submissive mode and shed my garments quickly, placing them on the table that rested to my right. Dmitri was naked soon after. He drew near and removed the scarf from my hair. Before this, he plucked the scarf I’d worn around my neck from atop my folded clothes.

  “Spread your arms,” he commanded. “Place your wrists against the hooks.”

  I did as he requested. He wound the silky fabric around my wrists and looped it through then around the hooks, securing me tightly.

  “Now don’t struggle—”

  “What if I want to?” I tilted my chin up and gave him a defiant look.

  His eyebrows quirked up as he smirked. “You need more discipline, I see. You’re growing far too bold.”

  I shrugged as best I could in my bonds. “Perhaps I prefer being bold and brazen.”

  “Tsk tsk.” He shook a finger at me as he drew near. “I see I’m going to have to kiss the will out of you.”

  He pressed his nakedness against mine and did just that. First his tongue trailed across my top and bottom lip, barely tasting me. As he did this, his hands molded to my breasts, massaging the medium sized globes with insistent, skilled fingers. When I moaned from his touch, he plunged his tongue into my mouth, scraped it over my teeth, then tickled the roof of my mouth with its tip. My tongue entangled with his and the kiss deepened.

  His fingers moved to my nipples, teasing the dark pink buds with light flicks, then running his thumb back and forth over them until they stood stiff and my aureoles puckered. It sent waves of sensation coursing downy my torso, my belly, to where it pooled and throbbed in my pussy. But I bit back the urge to groan out my enjoyment, lest he take the pleasure away.

  “Good Mistress,” he murmured as he kissed his way down my neck and across my collarbone. “Amazing control, my darling.” He now tugged at my nipples with his teeth, flit his tongue rapidly over the aching tips.

  I cut off a whimper before it could fully escape my lips.

  “Let’s see how long you can last.” His mouth caressed my ribs, my stomach, then his tongue poked into my belly button, swirling circles that tickled so badly it made it sheer hell not to squirm.

  When his tongue flit over my clitoris, I had to screw my eyes tightly shut to keep from moaning. But I couldn’t stop my hips from jutting forward, seeking to bring my sex closer to his face.

  “ I should stop now,” he said, pulling his lips from the throbbing nub, but teasing it still by rubbing his thumb up and down the sensitive bud. “You’ve been naughty, moving like that. But I want to taste you, fuck you so badly, we’ll make an exception.”

  Then he dug his fingers deep into my ass and pulled me closer to his lips, draping my legs over his shoulders as he did so. His tongue slithered up the length of my wet slit then back down. He poked it far into my quivering hole and tongue fucked me with vigor until I cried out and thrashed in my bonds. His mouth next wrapped around my clit, and he urged the hood back with that talented, wet muscle, then tickled the bead of extra sensitive flesh with its tip.

  He added fingers, curling them to caress my g-spot awake, filling it with erotic stimuli. My legs tightened around his neck and I let out a long “Ahhhhh,” as my head fell back on my shoulders. Seconds later, I squirmed in my bonds, hoping the scream I let free as I came wasn’t too loud, as I didn’t want to notify any passersby of our presence.

  “Oh, Charlotte,” he said as he slid up the length of my sweat dampened body. “I need to be inside of you right now.”

  He cupped my ass then urged my leg up near his waist. With his palm tucked under my bent knee, he used one hand to grip his cock and rub my swollen clit with its hard shaft. He watched me squirm as I tried to urge his cock into my aching slit.

  “Would you like me to fuck you now, Mistress?” he taunted.

  “Yes,” I begged, my breasts hitching up and down from the force of rapid, shallow breaths. “I want you right now.”

  His glans nudged its way into my opening, and my vaginal walls stretched to accommodate his girth. “Then you will have me,” he said as he buried himself in me to the root. “Now and forever.”

  He pumped fast inside me, and I milked him greedily with a tight grip that refused to let him go. His balls slapped against my ass as his thrusts grew frantic in pace. I was so sensitive from the first orgasm, the slippery friction growing in my g-spot, and that created by his pelvis stroking against my clit, soon brought me to a second climax both inside and out. I shook in his arms as he held me tight, and the intense release left my limbs feeling like melting candle wax. He shoved his cock deep inside me, pressed his face into my neck, and came with a muffled cry soon after.

  As he untied me, I thought of Dad’s words earlier. How I’d gotten my fairy tale after all. I might not have believed in Prince Charming before, but I found him just the same.

  ***

  Bonus Story: The New Femdom

  5 Years Earlier

  “Millie,” Dmitri said, ignoring his coffee. “Go to the club. You’re a major shareholder in Surrender, and you haven’t even been in any of the establishments we
own. For that matter, you haven’t even set foot in Sanctuary.”

  I smiled at my best friend, a giant of a Russian Canadian with emerald eyes that saw right through me. Surrender Inc. was our new business venture. Well, relatively new. We’d designed and launched the corporation three years ago. Surrender Inc. was also our brand name for our exclusive chain of sex resorts and sex clubs that catered to a range of clientele, from middle class to the wealthiest of wealthy. Our clubs and resorts prided themselves on being clean and safe. Every member had to be thoroughly tested for any sexually transmitted diseases, and their criminal records were also checked. We offered sex services ranging from bdsm to full body massage to birthday party orgies, just to name a few.

  Sanctuary was the top of the top—the board members little present to themselves. It was a resort set up in an old, sprawling mansion the board members had bought and refurbished. Only they or their close friends were allowed inside Sanctuary.

  And here I was one of those board members, owner of a trendy sex franchise that was getting press in some of the most well known erotic magazines, and I’d never set foot inside any of our clubs, resort, or Sanctuary itself.

  “No,” I can’t.” I waved him off with a well manicured hand, blew away a lock of blonde hair that had fallen from my loose topknot. “I have work to do.”

  Dmitri scowled at me, and when the waiter left after refilling my coffee, he said, “Dammit, woman, you’re always working. You need to play, too. How long has it been?”

  I sighed. Rarely did we butt dominant heads, except for that brief time we tried to be lovers. We’d both clashed mightily, and the chemistry just fizzled as we’d started to resent one another. To save our friendship, we mutually agreed to call it off. We both punched way too many holes in the walls of our apartments over the four months we’d given it a shot. We made great pals. Lovers? Not so much. But he was the closest thing I had to an older brother.

  “Since that club in New York,” I finally told him, when he continued to glare at my silence. “The one you and Roxy told me about, before she left…”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t been with Roxy in over a year, so that means—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off. “It’s been a year and a half.”

  His sigh dripped frustration. “You know, you let your old patterns creep back in every time you deny your dominant side.”

  “Don’t psychoanalyze me today,” I snapped. “And don’t bring up my mother.” Then I sipped my coffee and hoped he’d drop it. But I knew my tenacious friend too well. He wouldn’t. In addition to running Surrender Inc., Dmitri and I both worked as psychiatrists. He specialized in sex therapy and I in abnormal psychology. I wondered then, was it irony that a woman specializing in abnormal psychology couldn’t conquer her own mental demons? Every time I thought I won the battle, somehow I let them come creeping back.

  He took my hand then, studied my face with eyes that showed compassion. “You’re lonely. I know. And you’re not a failure as a female because you’re dominant. Your mother was wrong. We both know that. She was just too stuck in her paradigm to see it.”

  I nodded, then I growled at him, “I thought I told you not to bring up my mother?”

  He sipped his coffee, then in his trademark deadpan, quipped, “Wanna fight about it?” A stoic, quiet man, he never cracked a smile when he cracked a joke, and when I first met him I couldn’t tell if the bastard was kidding or serious.

  “Will you promise never to bring up my mother again if I go to Sanctuary this weekend?”

  With a smile, he held out his hand to shake. “It’s a deal.”

  ***

  I don’t hate my mother. Let’s get that straight right off. I’m not one of those affluent kids who blames my parents for everything. I loved her, I miss her, and I wish she and I had come to fully understand each other before she died. But life doesn’t always give us what we wish for. Mom meant well when she was alive. I know she thought what she did was right. She was just operating on an out of date ideology she thought was universal. I get that. It’s just, every now and again, the guilt comes back and gnaws. Reminds me why I am the over achiever I am.

  ‘Girls are girls,’ she would say. ‘And boys are boys.’

  ‘Girls wear pink. Boys wear blue.’

  I hate pink, for the record.

  ‘Girls shouldn’t be aggressive. Why are you so aggressive, Mildred?’

  ‘You got your dress all dirty, Mildred. Why can’t you be like other girls and like dolls?’

  “Stop torturing yourself,” I said, and slapped my forehead as if it would shake the thoughts from my mind.

  But there were good memories, too. A lot of them. Like how she had come to accept me before she passed away from a slowly failing heart. How proud she was of me when I graduated from university with honors.

  ‘You’re so smart, my darling. Yes, I wish you’d have gotten married instead of going to college, but…’

  Or after I set up my own practice, and she came to visit me in the city.

  ‘I know we’ve had our quarrels, darling, but I want you to know I’m glad you succeeded. Oh, yes, I wanted different for you. Would’ve liked grandchildren. I’ve never hid that. But I’m proud of you just the same, and I love you.’

  So Mom was always a mixed bag of emotions. I never resented her, because I truly believe she didn’t use passive aggression with malice. She was simply doing what her mother did to her, and she thought it was how you handled a kid. She and I were never close when I was little, because, back then, she seemed to keep me at arm’s length out of her disappointment. I wanted her acceptance so badly, I strove to hide my aggressive side, but my ambition and need to be who I was always won out. She distanced herself, as if she couldn’t handle I wasn’t the child she wanted me to be. I feared I’d broken her heart, feared her rejection, and the guilt cycle started then and there.

  But as I drove up to the expansive grounds and palatial manor that encompassed Surrender Sanctuary, I put thoughts of mom to rest. Now was my time, and my stomach fluttered with a mixture of excitement and fear. I couldn’t chicken out, or I’d never hear the end of it from Dmitri. And though he and Roxy, his own partner and playmate, had recently amicably parted ways and he probably wouldn’t be here tonight, I knew he’d hear through the Surrender grapevine if I didn’t show up. That thorough bastard would be sure to check in and see if I did, indeed, pay the visit I had promised to make.

  “Hello Ms. Monroe,” said the young lady with almond eyes and flawless, champagne colored skin. She stood behind the guest desk, waiting for me. “We were hoping you’d join us tonight.”

  I quirked my eyebrow up. “Dmitri already called to check on me then?”

  She tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn’t. “Yes, actually, he did.”

  I scrawled an “MMM” over the dotted line. My full name is Mildred Millicent Monroe. How’s that for kicks and giggles? I tell people to call me Millie and forget the rest.

  It’s been over a year and a half since I played as a femdom. I can’t deny I enjoy the role and the role playing. I love exerting erotic control over a male, to will when he comes, to watch him writhe from pleasure I conjure within him. Give me a submissive, sweet, shy man and I’m as happy as a kid in a sandbox. But sometimes my guilt rears its ugly head over my enjoyment of this more aggressive side of me. That and Mom also tried to teach me sex was always bad for the woman, and only men enjoyed it. So, of course, since I developed intense sexual urges with puberty, I felt it was just one more thing to make me a disappointment in Mom’s eyes. Girls, after all, weren’t supposed to have those.

  But Dmitri was right. I had to conquer my cycles and enjoy my life. All work and no play would make Millie a dull girl. Tonight I’d opted for the royal treatment, even though I did fight twinges of guilt for doing so. I held so much guilt, you would’ve thought I was Catholic instead of an atheist. I’d signed up for the Surrender Submissives Ball, and a selection of submissives would be display
ed for our choosing.

  “This way, Ms. Monroe,” a stocky built man with trimmed salt and pepper beard, balding pate, and thin rimmed glasses offered me an arm. He would guide me to the room where I would choose my playmate for the night.

  He led me into a vast space that reminded me of a ballroom. The area was done up in sumptuous red carpet and gold leaf wallpaper. Columns of carved, pale oak were set at regular intervals, their long, cylindrical bodies stretching from floor to domed ceiling. Couches of gold, crème, and red also dotted the floor.

  People dressed in all manner of sexy costumes, or formal wear, milled about. These were other doms, ready to choose their subs for the evening too. Soon, a bevy of willing compliant men and women would be ushered through the double, golden doors to my right.

  The entrance parted, and I held my breath. Excitement built a warm cocoon around my heart. I was near the back, so I made my way through the crowd to get a better look, my floor length, scarlet gown swishing over the carpet as I did so. I felt like a little girl about to climb the fence, just after Mother had told me not to. The giddy anticipation of doing something she’d deem most inappropriate and naughty swirled inside my head.

  I spotted him moments after I made it to the head of the room. He reminded me of a faun from Roman mythology. A shy, young one. The young man was a bit taller than me, built slender, but his sinewy frame, on full display in nothing but a thong, showed strength. He looked young, but I knew you had to be at least twenty-two to work for Sanctuary. Dark auburn hair curled about his slightly pointed ears. When his amber eyes met mine, I noticed they turned up a bit at the corners, giving him this dreamy eyed look that made him all the more adorable. He smiled back when I smiled, but promptly dropped his gaze in the proper submissive response.

  It was at that moment I knew I had to have him. I tried to rush over, while still looking casual, hoping to snap him up as my sub before anyone else could proposition him for the evening.