Best Bondage Erotica 2014

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  “Mason—”

  He leaned in and kissed me. His tongue slid along mine, tangling, bullying. I sighed against his mouth and felt him smile.

  “I was going to tie you up later, anyway. I think you’ve done a fairly decent job of immobilizing yourself for me.”

  I gasped—both from the fact that his fingers had slipped between my nether lips, and that they’d driven the lace of my knickers against my swollen clitoris. “You’re not going to leave me like this, are you?”

  There was begging in my voice. We could both hear it. It amused him; I knew because he laughed softly and shook his head.

  “Why did you try it on?” he asked, straightening up. He moved behind me, and his fingers skated along my bunched-up shoulder muscles. His touch was both infuriating and insanely pleasurable.

  “I have no idea. I’m a moron?”

  “You do it every time. Try stuff on, get angry, rant, donate it.”

  “Again, I ask, why does she give it to me?” I countered.

  He poked his head over my shoulder and said in my ear, “Because like her son, she sometimes gets off on inflicting pain.”

  That shut me up. It was torture to try on my mother-in-law’s hand-me-downs. They were always so nice, so fashionable and too fucking small and yet...I kept doing it.

  “Mean,” I humphed.

  “Controlling,” he laughed.

  I felt him test the restrictive white cloth that still had me stuck good and tight. Another rush of anxiety worked through me and I tried to breathe. Tried not to beg. But finally I gave in. “Jesus, Mason, please.”

  “Like I said,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “I was going to tie you up anyway.” His hand skimmed over the swell of my ass. He plucked at the lavender lace that covered my bottom.

  “But...I...”

  “And here you were such a good girl and did it for me.” His teeth captured my earlobe and he nipped me. Wetness graced the inside of my panties, want flexed deep in my pussy. I sighed.

  “But...”

  “So what I think I’ll do instead is...this.” He moved to stand in front of me, pushed me down slowly but insistently by my now-singing shoulders. The sockets ached, my muscles screamed for relief, and yet, when I went down on my knees, I grew wetter.

  I opened my mouth without being asked, and he stuck his finger in. Then a second. I sucked them like I would his cock as he watched me, smiling. “Good girl.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks.

  I couldn’t drag my eyes away as he undid the button on his jeans. His zipper. When he pulled his cock free and stroked it, a tremor of anticipation rocked me.

  “I—” I pressed my lips together, with no idea what I was going to say.

  Mason dragged the smooth warmth of his cockhead along my lips. I kept them pressed tight together almost petulantly until he grunted. Then I gave in to my own urge to have him in my mouth, to taste his skin.

  I sucked just the tip, driving my tongue against the slick indentation at the tip. I tasted the salt of his precome and the sweetness of his shaft. I drove my mouth down slowly, dragging a big breath of air into my lungs as I did it. My knees started to ache and my shoulders started to scream. And yet, it was perfect. Just what I needed. My pussy flexed eagerly to confirm the emotion.

  Mason held my head and slipped in and out, wetting my lips with my own saliva as he fucked my mouth. “I think, despite being a good girl, that maybe someone needs a spanking to remind her not to fall into my mother’s passive-aggressive trap.”

  I blinked, then sucked with all my might, feeling the ache in my tongue and jaw from the exertion. A small spasm sounded inside me, a precursor to the orgasms I imagined to be on the way.

  He remained silent long enough to make me worry. His big hands muffled the world by covering my ears as he drove into my mouth, filled my throat, took me the way he needed to find pleasure.

  Behind my back, I clasped my hands together restlessly, thinking maybe I should just struggle and thrash to get the dreaded jacket down and off my arms. And then...what?

  “Oh don’t run away, sweetheart,” he said, reading my mind. He brushed my bangs off my forehead, and cooler air kissed my damp skin. “You know you want it.”

  He pulled free of my mouth with a small pop and grinned.

  I shivered. Because he was right. As miserable as I was trapped in this stupid jacket, I wanted it. I wanted him to thrust back into my mouth. I wanted him to flip me over and touch me. I wanted to feel the sting and kiss of his hands on me. I did. I wanted it.

  I shook my head and tried to capture his cock with my mouth. He pulled back, shaking his head and pushing his jeans all the way down. Mason picked them up, draped them over a chair, started on the buttons of his shirt.

  “Admit it, Robin,” he said. “Say it.”

  I cocked my head, and it slipped out before I could help myself. “It.”

  He didn’t smile.

  “Okay. You get your wish.” He stopped with the buttons and moved toward me fast. I watched, curious, until he walked past me, dropped to his knees and grabbed my wrists. I felt him begin to tug the fabric and pull it down.

  “Wait!” I yelled and we both went still.

  I said nothing. All I could hear was the tick of the hallway clock floating into our room.

  “I’m waiting, Robin.”

  “I...don’t...” I said, sighing. “Don’t free me. Not yet. Please.”

  Was I insane? My arms and shoulders and back ached. Here I was staring freedom in the face, and I said no?

  “Okay. But why?” I heard that smile on his face. It made me insane. Angry. Enraged. Offended! And fuck me hard...so turned on.

  “I...want...” I hung my head, adding fresh agony to the back of my neck. “I want it!” I said, and then clenched my jaw so tight with frustration I thought I might break a few teeth.

  Mason said nothing. Simply stood and removed his shirt. He bent, put his hands around me and helped me stand. He walked me to the bed, tipped me onto my belly so that my hips were on the mattress but my legs touched the floor, and stood behind me. I could feel him there between my thighs, crowding me, his hand coming down to stroke my lower back, the swell of my ass, the backs of my thighs.

  Fire erupted on my skin from his gentle touch. My shoulders started to tremble. A tear slid from my eye, and I bit my lip.

  “Hips,” he said.

  I lifted them willingly and he tugged my panties down slowly. He worked them over the swell of my hips, then whisked them away.

  “You need to stop trying them on,” he said conversationally. “For your sanity.”

  The blow landed suddenly and before I felt it, I heard it. Red-hot pain followed the sound, heat followed the pain, pleasure tagged along.

  “And for mine,” Mason said.

  I nodded crazily against the dark-blue bedspread. I chewed my lip, tried not to sob, but found myself fixating on the clenching pleasure between my thighs.

  “Say you will,” he commanded. But then he delivered another heavy-handed swat.

  My body rocked, bowed, and I tilted my head back before crying out. “I will.”

  “Promise,” he ordered and then crossed the initial blow with another expert smack.

  “Promise,” I wheezed because the air rushed out of me.

  I couldn’t help it. Didn’t even think of it. I clenched my cunt tight and a small blip of bliss coursed through me. I could come if we kept this up.

  “Stop that,” he said.

  I did as told, though it was hard.

  He knocked my legs apart with his knee and then leaned back over me, spreading my nether lips with his fingers. I wished I were faceup. I wished I could see him. I stopped wishing when he drove a few fingers into me.

  He flexed them against the tender desperate place in me that needed friction. I tried to spread myself more for him. He put a hand on my ass, pressed down, held me steady and fucked me with his fingers for a few seconds. I could hear how wet I was. It made me
blush.

  “You are tall and curvy and luscious,” he said softly.

  I smiled—until he smacked my left asscheek hard enough to make me shout.

  “My mother is short and thin and, as you noted, birdlike.” One, two, three fast swats on my upper thighs just below my ass.

  My heartbeat throbbed in my bottom and my clit thumped in time.

  I moaned when he dropped to his knees, kissed the skin he’d just spanked and buried his face against my ass, finding my clit through my spread legs with his warm tongue. He only did it for a second. Just long enough for me to want it bad. And to suffer the loss of the sensation.

  When Mason stood, he yanked the jacket binding my arms, sliding the too tight sleeves all the way down and freeing me. This time when I moaned it was with painful pleasure to feel blood flowing back into my arms. It hurt. It felt wonderful.

  “Roll on your back, Robin.”

  I rolled, feeling drunk with all the sensations. Feeling buzzed with sensory overload.

  He quickly tied the jacket arms in one big sloppy knot around my wrists. He put my arms up over my head. “Spread your legs.” His cock stood out hard and flushed and I wanted to suck it again, touch it, have it in me.

  I licked my lips and did as he told me.

  “I think that you’ve learned your lesson.”

  I nodded. “I have. I have.” I was repeating myself, frantic, mindless with want.

  “But I think it will stick with you if I give you a little more incentive to retain this memory.”

  He knelt next to me on the bed to my left and studied my face. I was confused but ready. Would he kiss me? Pinch me? Go down on me? What would he—

  “Count to five,” he said, and gave me a hard but not too hard spank to my pussy.

  The blow rocked me not so much because it was rough but because it shocked me.

  “One.” Breathy, shocked.

  A second spank.

  “Two.” Moaning. Tortured. “Three, four,” I cooed, the sensation of his impact rocking through me.

  The final smack was a bit harder. It startled my clitoris, which forced pleasure through my womb. “Five,” I breathed.

  He moved fast, his face intent, telling me he was done with the game. He was ready to move on. Mason moved between my thighs, kissed me, crushed his big body down on mine until all the air rushed out of me and then he kissed me some more. I was light-headed with the kiss and the need for air.

  He shoved his hand under my ass and tilted me. The tender skin of my ass pounded like an extra heart from the rough contact, but when he pressed into me, filling me with his cock, I came on the first stroke. One single rough thrust and I was clenching up around him, saying his name over and over.

  “Good girl,” he laughed. I felt him grin against my cheek, realized how fucking much I loved him. Too much for my body to hold. Too big for one soul to comprehend.

  “I love you,” I told him. “I love you, I love you. And I love when you fuck me.”

  “I love you, too, sweetheart. I love you when you’re bad and when you’re good and when you help me out.”

  “Help you out?” I was trying to focus but another white-hot orgasm was rushing toward me. By the way he bucked against me I knew Mason was close—so, so close.

  “Yeah. Like getting yourself all tangled up, blushing...mostly naked and pluckable.” He pinched my ass when he said pluckable. “Like a ripe lush fruit.”

  I came with a loud sob. He covered my mouth with his, swallowed it down. “It gives me an excuse to do something I was going to do anyway.”

  “Like what?” I whispered.

  His dark eyes flashed and he thrust once more, emptying into me with a rough grunt. He pressed his forehead against mine, moving just a little so small flares of pleasure warmed my cunt. “Like fuck my beautiful wife.”

  My stomach growled. We both laughed. “I think I’m hungry,” I said.

  Mason untied me. “If you can find something to wear—that fits—I’ll take you to that dinner I promised.”

  “So no jacket from your mother?” I teased.

  “Now I thought you’d learned your lesson.” He kissed my neck.

  “Oh, I did. But you’ll forgive me if I forget it once in a while.” I wouldn’t say what we both knew. The part about it being on purpose.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll just have to remind you.”

  I was counting on it.

  EEL

  Annabeth Leong

  “Where’s Ethan?” I asked Alicia. My friend sat curled in a folding chair tucked behind the play party’s person-size speakers. I never would have found her if I hadn’t been so sure she’d be there somewhere.

  Alicia sighed theatrically, but beneath her dramatics, her lip trembled with genuine hurt. She wore a lacy set of lingerie we’d bought together the weekend before, and nothing else but makeup. Tear-streaked makeup.

  Oh boy. I sank to the floor beside her chair. She’d rolled herself into such a tiny ball that our heads were almost level now. “What happened?” The music forced me to raise my voice, but I kept my tone as gentle as I could.

  “Ethan says he’s tired of getting embarrassed by an eel.” I restrained a sigh of my own. Alicia, double-jointed and flexible enough that she performed with an amateur circus on weekends, had gained a reputation in the years we’d both been in the scene. I’d never met the top who could tie her in a way that held. And she liked guys with egos, who didn’t take kindly to the way her antics challenged their status as scary, black-leather-wearing doms.

  I reached up to pat her thigh, amazed as always at how slim it was. It wasn’t actually smaller than my wrist, but I could easily have made the joke. Whenever I went out with Alicia, people would come up to me and ask if I was “the man,” probably because I literally loom over her. I do prefer girls, but I don’t normally feel quite that butch. Besides, Alicia could probably kick my ass if she wanted to. I may be big and strong, but she’s a third-degree black belt in American jiujitsu and I’ve only made it to brown.

  Add in her gorgeous black hair, Mediterranean skin and those big, black “Help me” eyes—so incongruous if you actually know Alicia—and my pretty little friend could ride roughshod over just about anybody’s ego.

  “Kristi, all I wanted was to come to this party and get tied up,” Alicia wailed.

  I cocked my head at her. In the past, I’d given her my best supportive answers, but at this point it seemed Alicia needed a dose of reality. “If you love being tied up so much, how come you never stay tied up?”

  She pouted. “Now you sound like him.”

  “I want you to tell me the truth. Are you trying to embarrass your tops?”

  She didn’t answer with words, but a tiny smile started at the corners of her mouth. She must have seen my face change in response, because her eyes went wide and innocent.

  “Let’s give you the benefit of the doubt for a minute,” I said, though privately I had my reservations. “What would you say you’re looking for when you do your eel thing?”

  Her forehead wrinkled and she propped her arms up on her knees, raising her torso slightly from its folded position. That position would have made my lower back spasm for a week. “I guess I want a contest,” Alicia said. “I don’t want to make anyone feel bad. I just want them to prove they deserve to have me tied up for them.”

  I nodded slowly, digesting what she’d said. The noise from the speaker beside us had forced me even closer to her by now. She smelled of freesia. She’d really gone all out for this Ethan guy. Irrational jealousy flashed through my stomach. “You thought he might be the one.”

  “At the last party, he tied my chest to my feet. For a couple seconds, I thought I might not be able to escape.” She looked downright dreamy. I rolled my eyes.

  “A lot of tops would say you should stay tied up out of respect for them.”

  “How am I supposed to respect them if they can’t keep me tied up?”

  I laughed. “How can you have any pudd
ing if you don’t eat your meat?”

  “This is serious, Kristi.”

  I took a deep breath. I’d always considered Alicia’s eel problem as a sympathetic friend. For the first time, I allowed myself to think like a top. A tricky domme, because that’s what I had to be. I didn’t have anywhere near Ethan’s rope skills. An idea sparked in my chest, mingled with desire I’d never admitted before. “You want to get tied up, right? You don’t need Ethan for that.”

  She groaned. “No one wants to tie me anymore. They’re all afraid of being embarrassed.”

  Alicia spat the last word out, and I gave her a look. “For good reason.”

  “Whatever. It’s still true. Nobody wants to play with an eel. At least, not an eel they can’t beat.”

  A little warning voice spoke up in the back of my head. I’d decided long ago not to play with Alicia, pretty as she was. I liked being her friend, and I honestly didn’t know how well I’d handle her ego challenges myself.

  I told that warning voice to go to hell. The force of wicked-top inspiration had already begun to energize my body.

  I stood abruptly, my spine already making the tiny adjustments that take me from ordinary woman to scary black-leather-wearing domme. I nudged my rope bag with my boot and nodded toward my hands. I wriggled my fingers.

  Alicia arched her eyebrow, her expression an elegant mix of invitation and skepticism. “Really.”

  Ten minutes later, we’d claimed a corner at the play party. With bundles of rope stacked up around me, I sat on Alicia’s chest and examined her body with an architectural eye. Where to start?

  Alicia squirmed under me. “Um, Kristi?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You know I’m going to do the same thing I always do, right? I’m not going easy on you.”

  “I don’t want you to go easy on me.” I cracked my knuckles.

  Her face screwed up into a miserable expression. “That’s what people always say.”

  “Honey, I really know you. I know what you’re capable of. I wouldn’t be doing this if I hadn’t accepted the possibility that you’ll embarrass me by making it look like I didn’t even remember to use knots.” That wasn’t strictly true. I had no intention of being embarrassed. I tried not to make the obvious comparisons to Alicia’s macho boyfriends.