Big Book of Submission Volume 2

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  “Rope has its own intuitive intelligence. It responds to different bodies in different ways.”

  His movements are deliberate, yet fluid, like a jiu-jitsu master. As he speaks, he knots my wrists together in front, then bends my elbows up into prayer position. He loops the rope around my neck, exerting gentle pressure, until my head tilts forward, as if in supplication.

  I hear sounds of appreciation. He’s captured an archetypal pose. For a moment, I feel like a penitent saint. Sans halo.

  I flush—he’s somehow intuited my submissive tendencies. As the knots were tied around my wrists, a tumult of emotions moved through me. Vulnerability. Desire. Need. I feel the rope around my neck like a snaking current of energy, whispering erotic possibilities.

  “I’m getting ahead of myself, but I wanted to show you the beautiful potential of Shibari.”

  His expert hands retrace the path of the knots, releasing me from my silent prayer, leaving the rope looped around my arms. My body shivers involuntarily from the release of tension.

  “Think of the rope as a tangible manifestation of connection with the person you’re tying.”

  Tangible. Connection. Each place the rope has touched, heightened awareness flares across my skin. Surveying me, his eyes glint with the intent of a craftsman creating a masterpiece.

  “See—no knots yet. But even with something simple like this, you can begin to experiment with the connection, to play with weight and gravity.”

  He moves closer behind me. I’m aware of the scent of pine, his warm breath across my shoulders. He hauls gently, destabilizing my balance. I fall backward onto his chest and his hand moves to the small of my back, supporting me. He rocks me, back and forth, rights me, and topples me again onto the broad expanse of his chest. Being rocked in this way transports me into a pre-lingual state. I feel the thud of his heartbeat through my back, sending pulsations of heat into my belly, shooting down into my sex. My lumbar spine bucks against his hand. Several times. I look up at him.

  “You could just play here for a while, slowly building trust. Or…” He pauses, and in my ear, whispers, “Ready?” I nod.

  In one lithe move, he takes all my weight, lowers me to the floor, and turns me onto my stomach. I sense more rope being coiled around my upper arms.

  Dizzy. The circle of people feels out of focus.

  “To be a good tier, you need to be able to read the body and flexibility of your subject. To be an exemplary tier, you must learn to listen to the rope.”

  I feel him tying an intricate knot in the center of my back; hear the subtle swish of ropes through the air as they’re deftly manipulated. The knot seems to radiate heat, as if a hot stone has been placed on my skin.

  He runs a hand down to my foot, bending first one knee, then the other, securing both ankles. This constant play of tension and release, this deft manipulation of my body in ways beyond my control, tugs at a primal place deep inside my womb. The traction caused as my stretched arms strain back to reach my lifted ankles releases pent-up sexual energy, coiled in my abdomen. My whole body begins to writhe as waves of orgasms course through me.

  Nick crouches beside me, turning me on my side, his hand remaining in the small of my back, grounding me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I nod, smiling. “Very okay. I’m just, umm… sensitive to stimuli.”

  “Wow,” he says. “Beautiful.” He addresses the group as he begins to untie me. “You’ll sometimes see this response in particularly receptive people. In any group, you’ll see a diverse range of responses. Let’s take a quick break, then we’ll start exploring in partners.”

  People disperse, some smiling at me, as Nick helps me to sit up. I’m panting and disoriented. You move toward us.

  “I think I need some water,” I venture.

  “I’ll take care of my Yasmin.” You help me up, and lead me toward our bags. “That looked intense,” you whisper, as you hand over my water bottle. I nod, gulping thirstily.

  “It was. Beyond words.”

  Afterward, people chat and mingle. You’ve disappeared. Five minutes later, you’re back, smiling your conspirator smile, and when we’re alone again, you announce:

  “I’ve arranged a one-on-one Shibari session for you. My treat.”

  I hug you, appreciating your generosity. Then I motion to the merchandise table.

  “Marla? Can we get some of that rope? In fact, can we get a lot of it?”

  You take my hand, and kiss me.

  “You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

  ONE WORD LEADS TO ANOTHER

  Pearl Monroe

  Brian gently laid down the letters R-E-S-S and slid them snugly aside Julie’s last word, MIST. “Mistress for twenty-seven points, and victory,” said Brian rather glibly.

  Julie eyed the board and took in all of Brian’s words for a moment. “Wait right here,” she said. She got up and walked down the hall to her bedroom and returned with a long black scarf. She stepped behind Brian and quickly wrapped the scarf around his eyes.

  “Why are you blindfolding me?” he asked.

  “You’re right, Brian. Victory is yours and tonight you shall have your reward,” she said as she started to unbutton his shirt.

  “But why blindfold me? What are you doing?”

  “I want you to let your imagination run wild. I do not want you to see your good friend Julie. I want you to imagine the Mistress of your darkest desires.”

  Brian’s heart started to race. Maybe he had pushed things a little too far this time. Since his breakup with Claire, he had expressed his sexual frustration more than a few times to Julie.

  “That’s a creative set of words you managed tonight, Brian. Let’s see, there’s PRICK, TWINK, HARD, LIPS, OOZE, MISTRESS, and, oh yes, CUMSLUT. Well, my dear, you’re going to get a little hard prick and come oozing off those lips of yours tonight.”

  He heard Julie unzip her pants. Then she took his hand and gently ran it across soft denim and cold metal zipper. She then placed his hand on her flat stomach. He could feel the rise and fall of her midriff with each breath that she took, and the shallow cavity of her belly button. Slowly, she directed his hand to the waistband of her panties and then slipped his fingers beneath.

  Brian felt the soft silky hairs of her closely cropped bush and the firmness of her pelvic mound. His fingers were exploring her labia and he had just begun to rub her clitoris when she pulled away. Julie took him by the hand and led him to the living room floor, where she laid him down with a cushion beneath his head.

  He heard her peel off her jeans and the gentle chiming of her belt buckle as she tossed her pants to the floor beside his head. Next thing he knew, she had straddled his face and pinned his wrists to the floor with her hands. He could smell her sweetness and he was quivering with desire.

  Julie brought her pussy up to Brian’s face and parted her labia with his nose. “Do you like this?” she asked.

  “Yes,” whispered Brian.

  Julie caressed his chest and then pinched his right nipple hard. “What?” she asked firmly.

  “Yes, Mistress,” said Brian.

  “Eat me,” she said as she started to rock her pussy on his face. “Stick your tongue in deep.”

  Julie was riding his face, moving from his nose down to his chin and back. She was getting into a groove and breathing heavily. Brian was beyond aroused and one hundred percent focused on the task at hand. Her pussy and his mouth had become one as he swirled his tongue around her clitoris. Suddenly, she quivered and pushed down firmly. He could feel her juices flood his mouth and cover his face. “Do you like the taste of my come?”

  “Yes, Mistress, very much.”

  “Would you like to come now?”

  “Yes, please, Mistress. I’m about to explode.”

  Julie stepped back and unzipped Brian’s pants. She pulled hard, and they slid right off. She toyed with his underpants, teasing him by slipping her fingers under the elastic and grazing his hard cock trapped beneath th
e fabric.

  She hoisted his legs in the air and pulled his underwear to his ankles. “This is a pathetic sight,” she said. “Here you lie, your face covered in come, your cock ready to explode, and your ass in the air just asking to be fucked.”

  “Oh, Julie, please, I’m dying…” Brian started to say when he felt a stinging slap on his right buttock.

  “What did you say, Cumslut?”

  “I’m sorry, Mistress. Mistress, please let me come.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be coming soon enough, slut,” she said. “You really are a horny little bastard, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Julie pushed his legs down so that his knees came to rest on the floor on either side of his head. Brian’s stiff cock stood at attention right in front of his face. Julie dribbled a little massage oil on Brian’s cock and asshole. She began to massage his asshole in a circular motion and pushed her finger in every few rotations. Brian began to moan with pleasure. At the same time, she was softly stroking his balls and shaft.

  “Take a deep breath and exhale,” Julie commanded. “Again,” she ordered. “You’re going to keep breathing until you’ve relaxed enough that you can reach your cock with your mouth.”

  Brian was awash with desire. He had never sucked a cock before in his life, and nothing could have prepared him for the excitement that flooded his body as his lips felt the tip of his cock. He licked off a drop of precome.

  “That’s it, my little cumslut. Lick the head; wrap your lips around your warm, soft cock,” Julie taunted as she continued to stroke the length of his cock and run her finger in and out of his well-lubed ass.

  “You like being fucked and sucking cock, don’t you?”

  Letting his cock slip away from his lips, he said, “Yes, Mistress.” Then Brian wrapped his lips tightly around the head of his cock and began to suck with determination. He swirled his tongue underneath and around the head of his penis. His ex-girlfriend Claire had given him blow jobs before, but they were nothing like this. To be on both the giving and receiving end of a blow job was incredible!

  “Then say it. Say it out loud that you like to be fucked and suck cock!” commanded Julie.

  Brian barely got out the words, “Mistress, yes, I love to be fucked and suck cock,” when he started to come. The first spurt of come landed thickly on his lips and tongue. Julie applied a little more pressure to his lower back, easing about two inches of Brian’s dick into his mouth. She could see and feel his cock and balls spasming, sending streams of come into Brian’s mouth.

  “Swallow. Swallow all of it, you cumslut.” After a minute or two of milking his cock, she stopped stroking him and pulled her finger out of his ass.

  Julie lowered Brian’s legs and his cock popped out of his mouth. He was spent and felt a euphoria like never before in his life.

  Julie stood up, and he heard her zip up her pants.

  “Next time, maybe I’ll invite my friend Ray to join us for Scrabble. Would you like that?” she asked.

  A smile came across Brian’s face, and he said, “Yes, Mistress, I think I’d like that a lot.”

  THE BROKEN DAM

  Rob Rosen

  I run my own marketing department with seventy people reporting to me, millions of dollars riding on my every decision. Because of all that responsibility, my blood pressure was higher than the penthouse floor I lived on. I ached for a vacation—not from my job but from my life. I wanted to give up, give in, even for just a day, an hour. I didn’t want to think, didn’t want to act, just wanted to submit.

  I thought about going to the gym, but decided on Craigslist instead. Seemed more expedient.

  He arrived in no time flat.

  “Nice place,” he said, entering my loft with a swagger and a gym bag that rattled at his side. He was tall, lanky, handsome in a rough way. I had people working for me who looked like him, people dozens of floors below me.

  I never talked to them; I didn’t feel much of a need now. I didn’t want to talk, after all, didn’t want to even think.

  “Do what you will,” I said, feeling my cock harden as the muscles in my neck relaxed.

  I locked eyes with him, his a startling blue, haloed as they were beneath a mop of unruly auburn hair and a thick beard below. He simply nodded and tossed his bag to the carpet. It landed with a dull thud, as did I as he flung me to the couch and pinned my hands behind my back.

  He rammed his tongue down my throat, and then pulled an inch away, taking me in, perhaps deciding what he was going to do with me. I sighed and waited. He spat on my mouth. “Lick it up.” I did as he said. I would do so for as long as he remained there, gladly. Or perhaps resignedly was a better word for it.

  He stood up, got undressed, and told me to do the same. “Quickly,” he added.

  I stripped, panting a bit now as his lean body came into view. He stared at me in return as if I was a toy to be played with—which is just what I was.

  “On your knees,” he said.

  I fell from the couch and landed in front of him, his cock already aimed my way. He slapped it across my face. I felt the sting. He grabbed my nipples, and I yelped. He quieted me down by shoving his prick between my lips. I gagged, a tear streaming down my cheek. His cock was like a crowbar; mine was suddenly even thicker than that, harder.

  He smacked my cheek and yanked my hair, all while I sucked him with abandon, my hands submissively behind my back as I did so. He tossed me to the ground when he’d had enough of my attentions.

  I watched him unzip his bag; saw the ropes, the gag. I was trussed in mere moments, unable to move or cry out. I went limp. It was a delightful feeling, terror mixed with acceptance. My fate was in his hands, not mine. My brain at last flatlined.

  He spanked me, slapped me, tugged at anything that protruded. I breathed through my nose. My prick throbbed, leaked. I would’ve sighed had it not been for the gag. I squirmed instead as he abused my body and slapped my prick, sending it reeling.

  He spat into his hand, stroked his cock, spanked my hole. I longed to be penetrated, to be nothing but a puppet for him. I didn’t have to wait beyond a minute as his spit-slickened fingers found their way inside me, one becoming two, two shifting to three. He pumped my chute with ferocity. My cock felt like it could explode.

  “Don’t come,” he said. “You come, I leave.”

  I nodded. Acquiescence was met with a yank on my nuts. I howled into the gag. He pumped farther into my ass, teasing my cock with his free hand, bringing me to the verge before letting up. Sweat cascaded down my face, come welling up from my aching balls.

  I didn’t think of work. I didn’t think of money. I fought not to come. That was all I needed to do, all I was commanded to do.

  His fingers were replaced by a black dildo, then a plug, though he had enough mercy on me to use lube this time. He ravaged my ass as he freed my soul. He jacked me and released, jacked and released. I was in pain. I was in ecstasy. I didn’t even know his name and I’d nearly forgotten my own.

  He eventually stood over me and stared down, clearly enjoying the sight of me. He pounded his prick and spat onto my chest. I watched his balls slowly rise. His eyes rolled back into his head a moment later. He moaned loudly as he came, thick gobs of aromatic come splattering my belly before gliding down my sides.

  He removed the gag and untied me, then kissed me, hard. He jacked my cock as he strummed on the plug still embedded up my ass. He played my body like a musical instrument until I was finally in tune.

  I came with a gushing release, as if a dam had broken.

  In all, it lasted forty minutes, tops. It felt like an eternity.

  He left without another word.

  I lay there, naked and battered. I’d gone into this broken; I came out the other side whole.

  I went to my computer. I did my work. My blood pressure felt normalized. I typed even as the butt plug remained, a gift from a stranger, a gift that would keep on giving long after the bruises healed.

&
nbsp; CHASED BY THE WOLF

  Mischa Eliot

  Who is it?” The person I saw through the peephole wasn’t someone I recognized. I didn’t live in the safest area, so I wasn’t about to take a chance and open the door to a complete stranger.

  “Ms. Hartley? I’m Samuel. I drive for Mr. Clark. He has sent me to fetch you and I have a package, as well.”

  Samuel held up the dark magenta box wrapped with a black bow. My eyes widened, as those were the signature colors of a very specific boutique I enjoyed window-shopping as I walked to work. I had no idea how Mr. Clark had found me, but I was going to give him a piece of my mind. This was crossing a boundary. We weren’t supposed to meet outside the club.

  “Madam? Are you still there? Should I give your regrets to Mr. Clark?”

  Samuel. I had forgotten he was standing there as the blood rushed through my veins. Even though he couldn’t see me, my face flushed beneath the beauty mask I’d just applied. I opened the door and let him come inside.

  “My apologies. Please come in.” My flush deepened as he entered my tiny apartment. It was small, but I didn’t need a roommate and I relished that.

  Samuel set the beautiful box down on my little side table near the door. With barely a glance around, he stepped back out into the hall. “Once you are ready, Ms. Hartley, I’ll take you to the location specified by Mr. Clark.”

  Confusion reigned as he closed the door behind him, content to wait in the hall as I readied myself. He hadn’t given me a time limit. I hadn’t planned on going out tonight, so I was wearing fuzzy pajama pants and a tank top. A gasp of horror escaped me when I realized I still had on the clay facial mask.

  “Crap.” Focusing on being gentle, I untied the ribbon from the box and opened it. On top of the softest silk were a mask, a collar, and shoes. I plucked the envelope out and opened it. The paper was expensive.

  Dearest Ms. Hartley,

  I meant to discuss this event with you at our last meeting, but we were interrupted. Please forgive me for any offense at finding you. I have not delved any further than to acquire your address. It would be an honor to escort you to the Predators and Prey Ball tonight. You are not to put the collar on as I wish to have that honor.