Best Bondage Erotica 2012 (15 page)

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?”

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.

“You're both crazy.”

 

Shaded by the balcony overhang, the men got down to their chess game. Kate stayed inside, breathing and trying to calm down.

It should have been embarrassing, having Chris see her like this, and it was, but she didn't feel vulnerable. She saw it as a challenge. She wasn't giving orders but she held the cards, if she played them right. Gabriel was unpredictable. She didn't know how far he'd go, or how far she wanted him to go. They'd
been getting more and more adventurous in their exploits—toys, video, obscene language, bondage, not-so-light spanking—this was their first time bringing another person into things.

Chris was the ideal candidate: sweet, sexy, smart, and friends with both Gabriel and Kate independently. The three of them had shared moments of collective erotic tension on dance floors, melting into nights of late walks back to Kate and Gabe's place. Nothing had ever happened though, just soft smiles in the morning. Chris saw the crackling love between Gabe and Kate, despite his ambiguous moments with each of them. None of them saw it as cause for jealousy, but as a fact that sometimes surfaced, waiting for the right moment to arrive. Today they'd decided to make it come.

 

“Kate, bring out the lemonade,” Gabe called, adding a belated, “Please.”

She took up the tray with the pitcher and frosted glasses and slowly walked through the living room. She liked the sound of her heels on the floorboards, but felt a little ridiculous. It was two in the afternoon but she was dressed for midnight, serving drinks. When she stepped onto the balcony and bent over the serving table to one side to put down her tray, her cheeks were hot.

“Ah, perfect.” Gabe looked up from the chessboard as Kate straightened and turned to go back inside.

“Wait, the tray is crooked.”

She glanced at the table. She bent over and shifted the tray, setting it at a more pleasing angle. She started to leave again.

“Wait. I didn't say you could go.” Gabe leaned back in his chair, looking across the board to Chris, then to his right where Kate stood. “It's still not right. Move it again.”

Kate wasn't sure what he wanted. She bent and lifted the tray again, pausing as she surveyed the table. It was empty but for a
couple of candles and a lush red geranium.

“Put it more in front of Chris,” Gabe directed during her hesitation. Kate shuffled through the narrow space between the chairs, game table and serving table. She realized what Gabe was doing and the blush on her cheeks bloomed. Bending to set the tray down a third time, her ass was basically in Chris's lap. Her clit tingled. Was he looking?

“For fuck's sake, Chris, we get it. You're a good guy. Now appreciate an ass when it's offered to you.” Gabe was stern but his eyes twinkled. Kate stood up but Gabe went on, “Honey, why don't you give Chris another chance to appreciate you? He didn't make the most of that.”

She looked at Gabe, unsure. She wasn't lifting the tray again.

He read her mind. “Fuck the lemonade. Just bend over.” Kate was surprised at the authority coming out of her gender-aware feminist boyfriend. She was surprised at her body's wet response. Slowly bending back over, she shifted her weight off her four-inch heels into her toes. A breeze moved over her bare back, reminding her that she was outside.

“Put your hands on your knees and stick it out, babe. Give it to him.” Gabe took a glass of lemonade and sipped it. “Don't make me ask again.”

Kate rested her palms on her knees and arched her back. Her round ass had to be right in his face. She heard a sharp intake of breath and a slow, shallow exhale. Chris was looking now.

“Isn't that the most perfect ass you've ever seen?” Gabe seemed to be talking to his lemonade. “Perfect size, round, hard. If you ever get the chance to fuck a dancer, take it.” Kate tried to meet Gabe's eyes. He ignored her. “Well? What do you think?”

Chris coughed. “Yeah, yeah, it's great. Probably the best I've ever seen.” His voice was quiet.