Best Bondage Erotica 2012

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  “Sure,” I say. My voice isn’t as confident as I think it’ll be. In fact, it kind of cracks a little at the end, and I want to be embarrassed, but Stefan doesn’t give me time to think about it. He just moves right in, and I don’t know if I should be grateful or not that he’s moving fast enough to keep me from getting in my own way.

  “If you can’t breathe,” he says, leaning in so close to my ear I can feel he’s hard right up against my ass. That should freak me out—this is my friend; we don’t do shit like this—but instead it just makes me suddenly aware that I’m as turned on by this as he is. It’s weird and different, and probably just adrenaline or something, but I’m still at full attention with nowhere to go. “If you can’t breathe, stomp twice in a row and I’ll loosen them. Deal?”

  This time I nod. Fuck trusting my voice; obviously, it’s not going to be any help here.

  “Kevin.” Stefan jerks on the laces hard enough to make me stumble back. “I’m fucking serious. Are we good?”

  “Yes!” I say, annoyed that he’s making me say it. “Yes, I fucking get it. God. Just. Whatever, okay?”

  Stefan laughs, but it sounds weird. Hell, this whole thing is weird to me, and I should just undo the corset and get the hell out of here. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and I’ve always been fucking terrified of heights. But before I can get my shit together, Stefan’s up against my back, pushing that hard-on against my ass again as he presses my hands to the sides of the bureau again.

  “Hang on,” he murmurs.

  And damned if I don’t whimper.

  He starts pulling the laces tighter and it’s not so bad at first. Like some kind of full-body bear hug, but I’m good, even as the leather creaks when I shift, sighing quietly. But then he does it again, and then a third pass, each one going tighter, squeezing at my ribs, cinching me tighter and tighter. My head falls down, hanging heaving on my neck; I can’t meet his eyes while we do this. I can’t even meet my own.

  “Exhale,” he whispers in my ear, and I can feel his hand on my stomach, heat seeping through like a fucking brand. “And hold it.”

  I do what he says, not breathing for the long, long seconds it takes Stefan to do a fourth pass, and I swear he’s taking extra long just because he can. And then he tugs even tighter, and I look up, startled.

  “What the fuck are you…” I start to say, my voice wispy as the air trickles from my lungs. But I can see now, and I can see Stefan’s tying off the laces, to hold them in place. To keep me like this until he lets me go.

  “Hush now.” He shushes me, and kisses my neck. “I’ve got you, Kevin. You trust me, don’t you?”

  It takes a couple of tries and me licking my lips, but I manage to answer him. “Yeah. I do.”

  Stefan looks up and looks at me in the mirror. The heat I see there, in both of us, makes me groan as I push back against him. Later on, I’m going to have to seriously revisit a lot of shit, but right now I don’t care. I only care that I can feel my brain and body sinking into this and I don’t know when I stopped wanting to stop it.

  He slides a hand along my right arm, helping me lift my fingers. “More?”

  When I nod this time, he lets me get away with it.

  My arm is putty in his hands as he pulls it back and pins my wrist to the small of my back with one hand. I start breathing in fast, shallow pants, not enough air, too much panic, but still I let him bring my left arm back as well, tugging down so my shoulders are back, my chest is out, with my back starting to bow backward despite the boning in the corset.

  “Relax,” he says, that voice of his a cool breeze I don’t know how to catch. “Relax, Kevin, I’ve got you.”

  The pull on my arms eases just enough so I can straighten, and I gulp for breath, even though I have nowhere to put the air. Stefan keeps my wrists pinned in one of his hands, holding me close, petting my stomach with his other as he kisses my neck, kisses my collar.

  He doesn’t ask me if I’m good, but I really am when he stops petting me and starts wrapping my wrists in the tail ends of the corset laces. Jesus fuck, I think, and flex my fingers as he binds me to my clothing, my arms behind my back. Now there’s no getting out of this without him, no quick release of the corset unless Stefan decides it’s time. I am completely at his mercy.

  It should scare the hell out of me, and it does, but at the same time, it feels so goddamn good to let go of it all. Every last responsibility is his now, and all I have to do is just fucking enjoy it. And I really am; my body feels like it’s been plugged into a live current, and if I had enough room in my lungs, I’d say I feel like singing. I want to tell Stefan all this, but how do you say that you feel the most free you’ve ever felt in your life by being tied up, and please, please, don’t fucking stop?

  Instead, I twist in both his and the corset’s grips, and offer him my mouth. He kisses me back, a warm and wet invasion that takes what little breath I have away, and we’re both panting when he pulls away and yanks on my arms, forcing me to face front again. He’s just as flushed as I am, grinning as he rubs his cock against my ass; I’m pretty sure he got my message loud and clear.

  “Your collar isn’t on right,” he says. “It shouldn’t be so loose.”

  Oh, god. I swallow, suddenly aware of the leather and metal weight around my neck in a much sharper way that I’d let myself think about it before. If I play into this, it could be dangerous, so very dangerous, and I might be almost hard enough to bust my zipper, but I’m not stupid. But I said I trusted him, and he said he had me. That has to count for something, and that something is probably whatever I’m still missing. Fuck it, I figure.

  “Fix it for me?”

  I don’t have to ask him twice. Stefan’s hands are fast, his touch burning against the back of my neck as he pulls the leather tighter, tighter, the O-ring digging into my tender skin just enough to make me nervous. And then he fastens it, high and tight around my throat, kissing the clasp like some kind of blessing.

  “You look so beautiful,” he whispers. And his hands, his hands are all over me. It’s like before, only now I feel possessed instead of petted, and it’s a million times better. I try to squirm, but too much movement makes the collar dig, so I try to hold still. I would have thought that with the leather and the mesh shirt, not to mention all the touching already, I’d be at least somewhat desensitized, but I can feel every last caress like it’s on my bare skin, and I can only lean back against Stefan’s chest and let him do whatever he wants as his hands go lower, lower, heading straight for my cock, which is harder than ever and clearly happy with this new turn of events.

  When Stefan’s hand closes over me, I cry out as best as I can, twisting until the collar digs into my windpipe. I need more. I need flesh on flesh. I need what he can give me, something I don’t understand but I can only hope and trust Stefan does. God, one of us has to, otherwise I’m fucked, and not in a good way.

  “So perfect,” he whispers in my ear, but maybe he’s shouting. I can’t tell over the pounding of blood in my head, the thud-thud of desire and low oxygen that’s settling into my bones.

  He reaches under the front of the corset and frees the button and zipper of my slacks, pulling my dick out into the cold air of my bedroom and into his warm, tender hand as he strokes me.

  “Yes,” I hiss, pushing my hips into his hand, desperate for whatever he’ll give me, whatever I can have. I pull on my ties, but that only makes the corset tighter, makes me gasp for breath louder on the next twisting upstroke, his thumb sliding over my head and making me jump. The added tension feels so good, like the embrace of a lover, like Stefan is wrapped all around me while he jacks me into complete insanity, and I can’t resist the urge to pull and release again and again, the ties digging into my wrists until I’m sure I’ll be bruised tomorrow. I’ll have thin purple and red welts all up and down my wrists and forearms and whenever someone asks me about them at work, I’ll make something up, but inside I’ll be thinking about this moment, this fee
ling of being so completely cradled by Stefan.

  “You like that.” I can hear pride in his voice, and then Stefan’s free hand is over my hands, touching me, making me sob breathlessly in anticipation. “You want more.”

  “Please,” I beg him, even though it wasn’t a question. “Please, yes. Please.”

  I feel those nimble fingers hook into the back of my collar just as Stefan kisses my shoulder. “You’re going to love this,” he promises me. And I know I will, because he’ll give it to me. He has to know what I need. Has to.

  Then he’s stripping my dick with his hand, pumping me fast and hard, and I would shout, but I can’t. I can barely breathe at all, because he’s pulled back the collar, deep enough into my neck that I can see the skin bulging around it in my reflection, can see my eyes wide, but not with panic—wide with desire, with release.

  This. This is what it means to be in Stefan’s hands. I stop trying to breathe. Stop trying to fight it. I just let him work my body relentlessly, driving me higher and higher. There is air getting in, just barely enough to keep me conscious, but the world is still going a little fuzzy around the edges. Stefan’s hand on my cock, his fingers pulling and releasing my collar; his lips on my neck, my shoulder, my ear; those hot, hot words of praise. I almost think I’m falling apart, but I know I’m not. I know I can’t, I won’t—not while Stefan and the corset and the laces have me held so tightly, bound together and to the Earth and to him so completely.

  God. God. Stefan. His name forms on my lips, but no sound comes out, just a thin hiss of air that I’ve been saving just for him. I have never felt like this. Never let go like this. I should have come ages ago, and I don’t know why I haven’t. I’m glad though, so glad Stefan has kept me riding this edge, has pushed me so high. So grateful. So fucking grateful.

  “Kevin. Kevin.” How many times has he said my name? “Kevin, it’s time to let go now. I want you to come.”

  And all of a sudden, it’s just that fucking easy. It pushes me higher and then right up over the edge to know that’s what he wants from me, and I shoot, so hard that my world goes gray and spotted, so that I know I’m seconds away from passing out. Stefan’s fingers slip out of the collar, but he’s still stroking me, bringing me down from the best goddamn orgasm of my life as color bleeds back into my vision and I realize he’s still hard against me.

  “Let me,” I say, and turn and drop to my knees, nuzzling his crotch. He doesn’t need to be asked twice, and he gives me a face full of long, gorgeous cock perfect for sucking on. I get my lips around it awkwardly, my hands still bound, and suck him hard, bobbing my head three times before he comes, pulling out in time to paint my face and chest white with his spunk. Normally, I’d be pissed as hell at a guy for doing something like that on a first time without asking, but this time I’m glad. It feels like it belongs on my skin, my hair, soaking into my body and soul like a primitive mark.

  He falls down across from me, looking wrung out, and I want to tell him he should try being in my shoes, but it doesn’t feel right to crack a joke. Not yet. So I knee-walk over to him and kiss him gently. We’ve been roommates for two years, friends for five, and I’d never known. Fuck. What a waste of time.

  “I’ve got you,” he says, crawling around behind me and freeing my hands before loosening the corset enough to easily release the front clasps.

  The air rushing into my expanding rib cage feels almost like a second orgasm, and I fall back into Stefan’s arms for a second, only to pull away when he tries to take my collar off. I want it on as badly now as I didn’t want to wear all of this in the first place. I want the reminder, the proof of how he made me safe. Made me his.

  “Maybe just…loosen it,” I say. “For now.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, and I think maybe he’s got the message again. I mean, it’s not like I’m being subtle about it or anything.

  I climb into Stefan’s lap, straddling his thighs, and kiss him. This time, he’s the one who’s breathless when I’m done. I can feel my body equalizing, can feel a new center of calm that I have never had before, like an uncharted ocean of sorts. At the center of it, I’m on an island, peaceful and serene. Safe.

  The island known as Stefan smiles at me and shakes his head. “You’re going to be so much fucking work.”

  I have no idea what he means. I really don’t care. “Sounds fun,” I say. “Still planning on helping me get dressed for work tomorrow night?”

  PAWNS

  Billey Thorunn

  Kate had never worn an apron. She liked cooking and was even known to bake a pie now and then, but always on her own terms. Despite having had more than her share of boyfriends, she’d always felt solitary, living according to her cravings while enjoying the safety of sweet guys. Not the docile type, she also wasn’t a girl who made bets she didn’t know she’d win. Things had changed since she’d met Gabriel.

  She had never been so intrigued by a man in her life.

  He was a mass of contradiction, a poet in a sailor’s body, down to the anchor tattooed on his inner right forearm, with full lips, gold-green eyes, and hair with perfect curled texture. Patient but fiercely ambitious, conceited yet compassionate, he’d traveled for years and spoke Spanish like a mother tongue. He had a sensitivity that made her feel safe and integrity so absolute it intimidated her. She couldn’t float above him like she had with other guys. She’d tried, but he’d called her on it, and she’d fallen even harder for him and asked him to move in.

  Last week he’d won another bet. David Bowie was King of the Goblins in Labyrinth, that classic ’80s movie. Kate had thought it was elves. Now she owed Gabriel an absolute afternoon of her time.

  Absolute—this was a word they’d discussed at length. It was now the go-to prize in their games, and each time they upped the ante with their winnings. Kate had savored three-hour, full-body massages, Gabriel had gotten bossy with private photo shoots and public risks. Kate wondered if somehow she’d tricked herself into this bet, knowing she’d lose. The line between punishment and satisfaction was beginning to blur.

  She was his for two hours. No quickly checking her email, no getting a glass of water, no nothing without his permission or instruction.

  So now she was in the kitchen, wearing red patent-leather pumps and a checkered blue apron over a clingy black teddy. She’d done up her makeup as she would if she was “getting slutty to go out,” and Gabriel had done her hair that morning, standing in front of her while she lay on her back in bed. He’d pushed into both her and the mattress, back and forth until he came, leaving both her hair and the sheets sweaty and disheveled. A black leather cuff was tight around her left wrist. Wearing the other would have wrecked the pretense that it was a bracelet. They both preferred a little subtlety.

  “How’s the lemonade coming?” Gabriel was cheerful, standing out on the sunny balcony. Living on the top floor of a fifteen-story building overlooking the club-filled neighborhood, they saw the streets and the view over their neighbors’ railings, but no one saw behind theirs.

  “Almost finished,” Kate called back. Gabriel came back to the kitchen, coming up behind her as she stood stirring sugar into the ice cubes.

  “Good. I want it ready by the time Chris gets here.”

  Kate was quiet.

  “Oh, have you gotten shy now? I thought you liked the idea?” Gabriel spoke with a mix of sarcasm and concern, skimming his hand up the side of Kate’s body.

  “I’m not so shy, I just didn’t have anything to say,” Kate looked down as Gabriel’s hands gripped the counter on either side of her.

  “All right then. Maybe I can help you get warmed up before we have any visitors,” his words finished over her shoulder, his lips brushing her neck. He rocked his hips against her ass, sparking a flash of heat between her legs. His cock stirred behind her. She arched her back to push into him.

  He laughed and pulled away. “Well, that was easy.”

  He gave her ass a light tap with his open palm. “You could learn
a thing or two about patience. Bring the lemonade out when it’s finished.”

  Before she had a chance to respond, Kate’s phone rang. Gabriel grabbed it and answered.

  “Yeah, come on up.” He looked back at Kate and pushed the power button. “Just him buzzing up. This is done now. Put it away.” He handed the phone back and she slipped it in her purse.

  Soon they heard a knock and a hesitant, “Hello…?”

  Kate looked at Gabriel as he moved toward the door. He stopped.

  “Yeah, why don’t you get it, honey?” In the two years they’d been together, not once had he called her “honey.” “Might as well start his afternoon off with a treat.”

  “Okay then.” Kate reached for the tie of her apron.

  “Whoa, what are you doing? That’s not necessary. Answer him like that.” Gabriel was leaning against a wall, one arm crossed and the other stroking his light facial hair. She wondered if he was posing deliberately. She knew the smug smile was real.

  She opened the door. “Hi, Chris, come on in.”

  Their friend Chris entered with a bashful smile. “Hello, Kate.”

  He went to give her their usual hug but froze when he saw what she was wearing. Or rather, wasn’t. He glanced at her bare collarbones, eyes moving down her cleavage before skipping shyly to the floor. Instead of relief, there they found shiny red heels. A dancer turned yoga teacher, Kate was calm as she watched Chris’s eyes move up her sculpted legs. When they reached the midthigh hem of her apron they jumped back to the floor.

  “It’s okay, man, look all you want. We went over this—that’s what the day’s all about.” Gabriel came up and clapped Chris on the shoulder. “Come out to the balcony, I’ve got the chessboard set up.”

  Chris gave a small laugh and relaxed a little. “You’re crazy, Gabe.” He looked at Kate, who had returned to the kitchen and was pulling glasses down from a shelf. The apron didn’t reach around her back and her teddy barely covered the curve of her buttocks.