BDSM EROTICA: A Hot, Hardcore Anthology

by Selena Kitt, Marie Shore, Alex Anders, Terry Towers, Aphrodite Hunt

  Well she’d gotten what she wanted, and as Lori, from whose mouth dripped the most tried and true clichés, had warned before she went to meet Patrick for this first-ever play-date, “You should be careful what you wish for!” Lori was also full of stories about serial killers who posted ads on Craigslist just like Patrick’s, psychos looking for their next eager, willing victim. Lori had been sure that Katie was doing this at her own peril.

  And Lori had turned out to be absolutely correct.

  Once Katie was naked and shackled and gagged, she’d discovered something she didn’t expect—she was afraid. This man wasn’t a psycho. He’d made her sign an agreement, they’d negotiated a safeword and limits, they’d worked out the scene, just exactly what he would do to and for her. She knew she was taking some risks. She was, after all, in his basement, in a soundproof, padded room—but it was a nice, suburban house with a picket fence for god’s sake! And Lori knew where she was and why she had come. She had safeguards.

  So why was she trembling with fear?

  As Patrick plucked equipment off the wall—a crop, a flogger, things they’d discussed—she suddenly realized her mistake. She didn’t trust him. For whatever reason, she didn’t trust this man to take her where she needed to go. In fact, she was quite sure he couldn’t, that this, whatever it was they were playing at, was wrong. After all her anticipation and dreaming about this moment, she knew, as Lori would say, “with every fiber of her being,” she needed to stop.

  She knew her safeword—she’d had it in her head for months and had told Patrick what she wanted to use—but she couldn’t say it because the red ball gag in her mouth made her effectively silent. He’d given her clear instructions though on how to “tap out” if she was gagged—three short taps on the mat and the scene would end. Except her hands were restrained above her head. And she was sure Patrick hadn’t anticipated her wanting to end things before they even really began!

  Patrick turned toward her, tall and lanky, a handsome specimen of man in his snakeskin boots and leather pants, his shirtless chest smooth, his belly flat and ridged with muscle. There wasn’t a thing in the world wrong with him. She liked him a great deal, in fact, had since the beginning, or she wouldn’t have agreed to any of this in the first place.

  You’re just being stupid, she tried to reason herself out of her fear. It’s butterflies, that’s all.

  Except some part of her knew it wasn’t.

  She’d read an article on one of those endless BDSM sites she’d perused over the past year written by a submissive waiting for “the one.” It was about the woman’s experiences, going to clubs, doing scenes, all the while feeling unfulfilled, because even if it was pleasurable, even if each Dom took her just where she wanted to go, it all felt empty because she hadn’t found “the one.” And of course, the end to the tale was how she felt when it finally was right, when she found “the one” and they lived happily ever after.

  And as much as Katie had tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew that Patrick wasn’t “the one” and anything they did together was going to leave her feeling just the same—hollow and unsated. There had to be a way out of this. Katie tried to speak but the gag did its job quite well, trapping her tongue, making anything but grunting impossible. Besides, Patrick’s gaze was on her body, not her face. She felt the heat of it, the way he looked at her breasts, his eyes dipping to the dark triangle of hair between her thighs.

  She tried again, but Patrick was focused on the crop in his hand, trailing it over her shoulder and down to her breast. The “scene” had started and Katie found herself desperate to end it. Now. Right now. Even as the crop flicked over her nipple and her body responded, her pussy clenching with lust—she’d been fantasizing about this for so long, so very long. Yet here she was, and she couldn’t go through with it, in spite of the way her other nipple hardened when the crop found that one too.

  Katie tried again, determined now to communicate her wishes, looking at Patrick, desperately seeking eye contact, but he seemed transfixed by the sight of her, bound and gagged on her knees, lost in the path his crop was taking down her belly. She grunted, pulling at the restraints above her head, feeling her body sway from side to side.

  “Shhh,” Patrick insisted, flicking the crop lightly but quite soundly against her hip. The sting was incredible and brought tears to her eyes. And once the tears came to the surface, well, that was it. It was over. There was no stopping them. Her chest hitched as she began to cry and she grunted again, trying to say the safeword, over and over, but Patrick’s crop was parting her pussy lips and he was licking his own in anticipation.

  She had never felt so vulnerable and exposed, tears streaming down her face, falling from her quivering chin in droplets onto her bare breasts. She could barely catch a breath now let alone try to speak or communicate and, oh god, there was snot running down her face too, just to make her humiliation complete. She hung her head, giving up, giving in, wondering if this was what surrender felt like—hopeless, powerless, helpless. If this was it, she didn’t want any part of it.

  “What in the hell are you doing?”

  Katie looked up at the booming sound of an unfamiliar voice. The man who appeared was like a bigger-than-life version of Patrick—the same dark hair and eyes, the same broad forehead and full mouth, but he was twice the other man’s size, his body literally filling all available space in the doorway.

  Patrick straightened, frowning, taking a step backward from both her and the looming figure. “I’m… wait, what are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

  “Did this woman give her consent?” The man stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving Katie. He knelt by her side and the moment his hands reached for her gag, she felt her body relax, the restraints holding her arms up going taut, taking her weight.

  “Of course she did!” Patrick’s voice grew angry and Katie looked at him with big eyes. “She signed all the forms!”

  “I’m Liam,” the big man said to her, speaking softly as he worked the leather strap on the side of her mouth loose. “You’re safe.”

  “What are you doing?” Patrick was mad—practically hopping mad, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “She wants to be here. She—”

  “Take another look, little brother.” Liam sneered over his shoulder at Patrick and then turned his attention back to Katie, taking the ball-gag gently from her mouth, glistening with her saliva. “She’s sobbing.”

  “Aardvark! Aardvark! Aardvark!” Katie croaked hoarsely, her face full of tears and snot and, she imagined, a great deal of mascara.

  “Your safeword?” Liam guessed, using the sleeve of his black turtleneck to gently wipe her cheeks.

  She nodded, looking at Patrick, her chin quivering. “I tried to say… I tried…”

  “But we hadn’t even started,” Patrick whispered, his expression moving from anger to confusion.

  “You need to pay attention!” Liam roared and Katie shrank back from him as he shifted focus to his brother. “Every minute. Every second. Every single fucking breath.” Liam’s jaw clenched as he turned back to Katie, his massive hands gentle as he loosened her wrist straps, moving more carefully when he saw the fear in her eyes.

  “I said you weren’t ready for this!” Liam’s words were meant for his brother but she felt them resonate in her belly like a tuning fork.

  Patrick stood, blinking, his crop forgotten, falling to the floor. “Rookie mistake?” he whispered, his face pained as he watched his brother take Katie down from the restraints, her body collapsing. Liam cradled her against his chest.

  “Not to her,” Liam snapped, his voice growing quiet as he shifted his attention. “What’s your name?”

  “K-K-Katie…” she managed. She was shivering now, uncontrollably, although she had no idea why. She tried to speak, to tell him what had happened, that it was just a mistake, she’d made a mistake, but no words would come out, just little hitches in her throat from crying so hard.

 
“We’re going to get you dressed now, Katie, okay?” Liam stroked her hair as he reached behind her to unfasten her leg restraints one-handed. She clung to him—he was solid as a tree trunk, but far more pliable and warm. He got her other leg undone and pulled her fully into his arms.

  “Patrick, hand me that blanket.” There was a black one in the corner, meant for sensory deprivation, Katie guessed—she’d read extensively about the subject. It was soft and Liam wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her slowly to a standing position, but her legs felt like jelly and wouldn’t hold her, so he scooped her up, his arm under her knees, like she was just a little bit of fluff, carrying her over to the big bed in the corner.

  “Patrick, get me a glass of milk,” Liam ordered, sitting on the edge of the bed. Katie couldn’t quite grasp what was happening. Her mind felt as if it was going in slow-motion, not able to catch up.

  “Milk?”

  “Go!” Liam growled, waving his brother away. Patrick left, looking for all the world like a puppy slinking away with his tail tucked between his legs. Even still in costume, shirtless with his leather pants and snakeskin boots, to Katie, he looked like a little boy playing dress-up in his father’s clothes.

  “I’m sorry,” Liam apologized, letting out a pent-up breath and wrapping the blanket more tightly around her. “Your first time?”

  Katie nodded against his chest, not wanting to open her eyes and look at him—at anything. She wished she could disappear, or wake up from this crazy dream she was having.

  “How did he find you?” His hand smoothed her dark hair down her back, the motion incredibly soothing. Her trembling was beginning to subside.

  “I answered an ad, on…on Craigslist,” she admitted with a whisper.

  “Sonofabitch.” His jaw tightened again. She could feel it. His arms around her tightened too. “Finally!”

  Katie opened her eyes to see Patrick had reappeared holding a glass filled with milk.

  “You stay right here.” Liam put her gently on the bed. It was covered in black silk—sheets, duvet cover. Except for the red heart accent pillows. Somehow she found those sweet—and strangely amusing. It made her want to giggle and she did, trying to stifle the sound with her hand.

  “What’s the matter with her?” Patrick whispered to his brother as Liam took the glass of milk over to the dresser. There were candles there, unlit, and a decanter filled with amber colored fluid.

  “Shock,” Liam said shortly, pouring from the decanter into the milk.

  “I don’t understand,” Patrick whispered, looking back over his shoulder at Katie. He was looking at her like she had three heads or something. She hugged the blanket more tightly around her, even pulling her feet up underneath, as if she could make herself completely disappear. “She gave her consent. Everything was fine, and then all of a sudden…”

  “It can happen. That fast.” Liam turned to his brother, holding the milk glass in his hand, cloudy with alcohol. “I’ve told you time and again, Patrick—you’re a top. You’re not a dominant. You can’t do what I do.”

  Katie blinked up at Liam as he approached, holding the milk out to her. “Drink this.”

  She reached for the glass, studying the liquid with a frown. She knew what Lori would say—could hear her friend screeching in her head about being drugged and raped and dismembered—but when she looked into the man’s eyes, she trusted him. Utterly. Completely. She took the milk and began to drink.

  “Good girl.” When he smiled, just a brief flash, she thought she might faint. The world actually tilted sideway for a moment, and she clutched her glass like a little girl, her blanket falling away from her shoulders, making her shiver.

  “Patrick, hand me her clothes.”

  Liam took her half-empty glass and set it aside as he helped her get dressed. She flushed bright pink as he slid her panties—sexy, black lace, bought just for the occasion—up her thighs. He even turned her around so he could hook her bra before helping her pull the soft, brown cashmere sweater she’d worn over her head. Her hair stuck out, full of static, and he smoothed it before sitting her down on the bed, getting her into her jeans, one leg at a time.

  “Drink,” Liam instructed, putting the glass back in her hands and sitting beside her on the bed. She did as she was told, watching as he took one of her bare feet into his lap. In spite of the fact that he’d just seen her completely nude and had rectified that situation mostly himself, there was something incredibly intimate about watching him put on her socks for her.

  “Shoes?” Liam glared at his brother and Patrick produced a pair of brown clogs. Liam raised an eyebrow, looking at her. “These aren’t exactly made for the weather, are they?”

  She flushed, murmuring against the lip of the glass. “They’re fashionable.”

  He didn’t say anything as he slipped them on her feet, taking Katie’s offered coat from Patrick.

  “Think you can stand now?” Liam asked.

  “I’m fine.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slid off, setting the milk on the night table beside it. The world tilted again as she stood, but when she wobbled, Liam was right there at her elbow, solid as a rock.

  “I’m sorry, Katie…” Patrick said as he watched his brother help her with her coat.

  She smiled at him, trying to remind herself who he was. Oh right, he’s the guy from the ad, the one who was supposed to do all those things I wanted… For some reason, she’d almost forgotten he existed at all!

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she murmured, Liam’s hands on her shoulders warm and heavy, a delightful weight.

  “Oh it was, decidedly, his fault.” Liam’s voice was low and serious as he glared at his brother, retrieving Katie’s purse from the dresser where she’d left it. “How did you get here?”

  “I drove.” She took her purse. Yes, she vaguely remembered bringing it with her, setting it on the dresser, looking at Patrick in his leather pants and snakeskin boots. They’d seemed so sexy at the time, but now all she could see was the hulk of a man in front of her, his gaze never leaving her face.

  “I’m going to drive you home,” Liam told her, reaching around her to pick up the glass of milk. “Patrick will follow in your car.”

  “That’s not necessary.” Sanity was beginning to return—at least, she thought it was. She was embarrassed by her actions. By this whole situation.

  “Yes it is,” Liam insisted, holding the glass out. There was only a little bit left. “Drink the rest.”

  She did, dutifully, and blushed when Liam used his sleeve—the one he hadn’t used to wipe her face earlier—to dab the milk mustache from her upper lip.

  “Feel a little better?”

  “I am. Thank you.” She smiled up at him, buttoning her coat, strangely much more steady on her feet now, in spite of the alcohol. “You really don’t have to drive me home.”

  “Keys.” Liam shook his head, holding his hand out to take them when she retrieved her key ring from her coat pocket. “I don’t want you driving, not in your condition. Besides, it’s snowing.”

  “It is?” she asked as he handed her car keys over to Patrick, Liam guiding her up the stairs. Outside, the world had gone white. There was nothing more thrilling than the first snow of the season and it lifted her spirits, falling around them in heavy, fat flakes.

  “What are you doing?” Liam asked, opening the passenger door to a red sports car, waving her inside. Katie laughed, tilting her head back and trying to catch snowflakes, turning in lazy circles.

  “Whoa, there!” Liam grabbed her around the waist as a wave of dizziness washed over her. He smiled, bemused. She liked his smile. “Get in. Before you end up face down in the snow.”

  Katie let him urge her into the car. “Oh don’t worry, I’m sure my humiliation bucket is quite full for the day.”

  He laughed, shutting the door, telling his brother to follow him before getting in beside her.

  “What kind of car is this?” she inquired, running a finger over th
e pristine white, leather interior. The car was a deep, dark red, very low to the ground. The engine purred to life when he turned the key.

  “A Maserati.” He glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “Put your seatbelt on.”

  “Buckle up for safety.” She giggled, pulling the harness across and searching for the latch. He let her fumble for a moment before reaching over and taking it out of her hand, clicking it seamlessly into place.

  “You’re good at that.” Katie felt his breath against her cheek. They were just inches away from each other in the closed space of the vehicle, just close enough that she could focus on the little flecks of gold in his dark eyes. She hadn’t noticed that before.

  “Thanks.” He smiled—she really did like his smile—and moved back fully into the driver’s seat, reaching for his own buckle.

  “Click it or Kick it.” She giggled again as he looked sideways at her, that sexy smile playing on his lips.

  “I think it’s Click it or Ticket,” he corrected, putting the car into reverse—it was a stick shift, and watching him manipulate the gearshift was… well, it was hot.

  “I think I’m a little drunk,” she confessed, watching out the window as Patrick finished clearing her little Honda’s windshield of snow.

  “Lightweight, huh?” He chuckled, pulling out of the driveway, checking in the rearview mirror to make sure his brother was ready to follow.

  “It’s a convertible?” She fingered one of the buttons, curious.

  “Yes.” He took her hand and put it back into her lap.” But I don’t advise letting the top down. Not in this weather.”

  “Sorry.” She blinked at him as he stopped at the corner, looking at her expectantly.

  “Which way, Katie?”

  “Oh…” She giggled. “I get to give you directions? I bet that’s a switch.”