Best Bondage Erotica 2012 (22 page)

He opened his eyes. “Come on, Noelle, you made your point.” He jerked his elbows around, as if annoyed that his wrists were still bound.

“I can't believe how skittish you're being.”

He shook his hair back and attempted a wry smile. “It's just unfair, is all. I'm the only one who's naked.”

“Break the knots.”

“What?”

“You didn't think I could tie a good knot. Get free and I'm as naked as you want me to be. But if you can't, I'm tying your ankles to the coffee table.” It was big and heavy enough to anchor him effectively.

He rolled his eyes as if I was just so childish, and tried. He couldn't. “Okay, you've proven your point—”

“God, Jackson, just
stop talking
.” I slipped off my underwear under my dress then stuffed the tiny scrap of fabric in his mouth. He looked up at me with real outrage for the first time.

But he didn't spit them out. And his cock was harder than before.

“Good boy,” I said, running a finger over his mouth. “Now you really are my little bitch, and I'm going to do whatever I want to you. You can stop it any time with a noise—but when you stop, I leave.”

I tied each ankle to opposite ends of the coffee table. He looked so pornographic, tied up with my dirty underwear in his mouth. Like a pictorial in the kind of magazines I used to find here, with photos of girls bound and spread wide with their pussies on display. Only now it was his cock and balls up for offer and—if I wanted it—his asshole. I stepped back and pulled off my dress. His eyes went right to my pussy, then back up to my face. There was an almost dreamy mix of hope and dread in his eyes.

I straddled his lap. A gleaming bit of precome graced his cock and I smeared it over his lips before kissing him.

“Perfect,” I said. “My perfect, obedient little bitch.”

Nostalgia can be such a teacher. I stood up on the sofa and rubbed my pussy against his face, brushing my clit along his unshaved jaw. I was remembering the nights I walked home
with my thighs rubbed raw from his beard, how exquisitely it hurt. How I loved his stubble burn, especially on my breasts, because it was the only memento I ever carried away from him. I stroked my clit against his abrasive scruff like a cat, then bent over and slapped his face lightly with my tits—just enough to fill his eyes with the pleas for deliverance his gagged mouth couldn't say.

I looked around the room again. Like I knew there would be, an open box of condoms waited on the entertainment center. I lifted his chin and made him look me in the eye as I rolled one down his cock.

Jackson shifted his hips. But he was mistaken if he thought we were going to fuck together. I straddled him backward, balancing myself on his knees, and worked him in an inch at a time, slowly enough to torture him. His entire body was rigid and I knew he was afraid to make a sound, lest I stop. Still facing away from him, I began to ride him like a jockey. My pussy was swollen and wet beyond aching, which meant I was going to come fast. Yet it seemed like something private, just for me. As I worked myself up and down his shaft, Jackson's bound ankles twisted and danced beneath us. I shut my eyes and pictured him tied up for real, legs forced open in a spreader bar with an arm binder pushing out his chest. My pussy went electric thinking about his helpless, involuntary orgasm, and just like that I came all over him in soft wet throbs.

He stopped moving. I hadn't even been conscious of his attempts to thrust into me. I wiped my damp hair off my face and looked over my shoulder at his burning face.

“That was good,” I said. I stood up on shaking legs and pulled off his condom. “But in some ways, a dick could be anyone's. I need something that's yours.”

He knew what that meant. His legs tensed into a statue's
as I knelt down and brought his hips forward until I could open his asscheeks. But he didn't make a sound as I slowly massaged his asshole, working in fresh precome from his cock. When I looked up, his eyes were glazed with the delirium of a new world. I could have done anything to him then. And what I did was inhale his cock all the way to my throat. He was mine now, really mine, and I sucked and tongued him with mindless voracity, desperate to swallow my prize before he came to his senses. My fingers worked deeper into his ass, stroking him, pressing him in tandem with the ceaseless rhythm of my mouth. He was rigid on the couch, thigh muscles straining to welcome more of my hand. And then his balls jerked and his come was shooting up like a geyser and spurting into my mouth, warm and copious and surprisingly sweet for such a guarded man.

When he finished, I pulled my underwear out of his mouth. His lips worked soundlessly as I kissed him and untied his wrists.

“Well,” I said. “I guess now we know who you are, too.”

Jackson bent over and unbound his ankles. I handed him his shorts without massaging his wrists and ankles like I usually would with someone. He got up slowly and didn't look at me as I dressed.

“I'm here for a few days,” I said. “I'll try to stop by again.” I kissed his hair and he managed a weak smile as I walked out.

The skies were black and starless as I made my way through the pine trees. It was definitely going to rain tomorrow, which meant my mother and I would probably be shopping in Hyannis when Jackson woke up alone with rope burns. I wouldn't be coming back. He knew that, though. Education came at such a premium these days. I moved down the sandy road to the beach, where the cottage of my adolescent summers was waiting. Everything
was the same—the distant rhythm of the tide, the dunes silhouetted against the indigo sky. Eighteen-year-old me could have been inside right now, sleeping off a tryst with the first man to shatter her confidence. I looked at the darkened windows, thinking of the things I could tell her.

Lolita Lopez

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mia shivered as Cal brushed the looped end of the braided rope against her collarbone. The silky rope followed the curve of her naked breast, teasing the stiff peak begging for attention, before sliding even lower along the sloped plane of her bare belly. Cal playfully swatted the tender lips of her sex with the looped braid. Mia hissed at the sting and pressed back against the stone wall. The shock of the cold masonry on her hot skin forced her ramrod straight.

Cal's fingers tangled in her black hair. He claimed her mouth with a possessive kiss, his tongue darting between her lips and swiping her own. A hint of peppermint licked at her taste buds. She gave a little mewling sigh and shoved her aching breasts against his chest. The pearlescent buttons lining the front of his crisp cotton shirt lightly scratched her flesh. Cal abandoned her lips and nipped the edge of her jaw. His teasing bites moved ever lower, sliding along her throat to the swell of her breasts. He sucked on one nipple and then the other. With his tongue
and teeth, he teased her erect nipples until they were glistening and ruddy.

Mia breathed heavily as arousal blossomed in her chest. Her pussy ached with need and seeped its slick juices. Already she could feel the sticky wetness pooling between her thighs. She squeezed her knees together in a desperate attempt to calm the overwhelming urge to open wide and beg Cal for his cock. A deliciously dirty image filled her mind: Cal taking her up against the wall as she clutched at his shoulders and sucked on his earlobe. She bit her lower lip at the phantom sensations of Cal pounding into her.

The looped end of the rope caressed her cheek. Cal fixed her with a searching gaze. She swallowed hard and gave a little nod. Desire burned bright and hot in Cal's eyes. He wasted no time working his magic with the rope. With deft movements, he bound her in the hemp fibers. Her breasts jiggled with every tug and tie. Rope zigzagged her torso and hugged her thighs and buttocks. The harness framed the plump lips of her cunt and squeezed her ample breasts, amplifying the heavy ache of her aroused flesh. She reveled in the intimate embrace of the rope.

Dropping to his knees, Cal outlined her navel with his tongue. He nuzzled his nose against her bare sex and inhaled her musky scent. He backed her up against the wall and forced her knees wide. The rope cupping her sex heightened her arousal. Mia's toes curled as he delved into her pussy, his pointed tongue swiping the length of her slit. When he circled the swollen kernel hidden between the folds, she tipped her head back and cried out. The sound echoed off the walls of the basement playroom.

“You taste so fucking good.”

His tongue dipped inside and gathered the cream at her entrance. Mia pumped her hips against his invasion. She wanted to milk every ounce of sensation from that talented mouth. As
he lapped hungrily at her cunt, Cal slowly pressed one of his thick fingers into her. Another finger followed the first and then another. Mia swiveled her hips and rode his hand as he brought her to the brink of orgasm—and then stopped.

“Cal!” Mia shoved her pussy against his lips but he made no move to give her release. “Please.”

Cal sat back on his heels and smiled devilishly at her begging tone. His fingers still buried in her cunt, he shook his head. “Not yet.”

On fire and frantic with need, she twisted against the wall. “Bastard.”

He chuckled softly and rubbed his lips side to side across her mound. “Undoubtedly.”

The vibrations of his voice buzzed right though her clit. The engorged nub pulsed. She was just a few quick tongue flicks from tumbling over the edge into ecstasy. Mia clenched Cal's fingers inside her slick passage. He remained completely still, watching her, waiting. It was time to barter.

“What do you want?”

Cal enjoyed trading pleasure for discomfort. Under his careful and patient tutelage, she'd been introduced to the sometimes overwhelming but always satisfying world of BDSM. Mia was new to the concept of predicament bondage. They'd ventured close to the line of complete surrender but Mia's hesitance and uncertainty kept her from giving in completely.

Rising slowly, Cal cast a glance behind him. She followed his gaze to the suspension hooks hanging from the ceiling and gulped. He'd spoken of his desire to subject her to his sensual tortures while she dangled bound and helpless from the hooks. While the intricate rope harness was beautiful, it also served a more practical purpose. The silken fibers would bear her weight and allow Cal to place her in whatever position satisfied his fantasy.

Could she do it? Could she grant Cal complete control? Trust wasn't the issue. Mia trusted Cal implicitly. No, it was more to do with her fear. The thought of being completely at his mercy was simultaneously frightening and thrilling. He could lick her cunt or subject her to his various toys or shove his cock into her ass if he wanted. Their safeword was always an option, but lost in the throes of passion, could she deny him anything?

A quiver of panic pierced her core. This was it. Tonight she took the plunge into a new world of sensual possibilities. She yearned to feel the sweet agony of pleasure and pain at the peak of her climax. She craved the gratification only her complete submission to Cal could provide.

Cal offered his hand. She placed her palm on his. Cal's warm, strong fingers clasped hers. His brow lifted questioningly. “Well?”

Mia took a bold step forward. She gasped at the naughty sensation of the rope squeezing her labia together. Her clit throbbed. Cal smirked knowingly. She moved closer, so close she could smell his spicy cologne, and buried her nose against his throat. His pulse jumped against her tongue. She licked his lower lip before sucking it between her teeth and nibbling it gently.

Cal issued a throaty groan. Mia pulled back just far enough to stare into his eyes. Her free hand found its way to his chest. His heartbeat thudded against her palm. There was no mistaking his excitement. She hovered on the verge of coming with anticipation of what their night together would bring.

“I surrender.”

Neil Gavriel

 

 

 

 

 

 

Occasionally, just occasionally, there are downsides to dating a kinky girl.

You'd think I'd be referring to one of the many times she's sent dirty pictures of herself to my phone while I'm at work. Of course, the fact that I opened up that slightly blurred picture of her favorite toy jammed firmly up her perfect ass during an important meeting at work was purely my fault.

My phone burned a hole in my pocket for the next two hours as the droning speakers clicked their way through an especially banal PowerPoint presentation on databases. I wanted to ask for a bathroom break, but I knew if I dared open that photo again I'd get an erection that wouldn't take no for an answer. As it was, I had to concentrate on anything but my girlfriend in order to keep from tenting my business casual khakis. I probably paid more attention to that presentation than any other presentation of my career—anything to distract me from that image of my favorite butt in the world with that string of Thai anal beads
in up to the last round, jellied one, her slender fingers barely holding on. Jen's subsequent texts of
Pop!
every thirty seconds or so really did not help the situation. Some people use sports statistics to dull the roar of horniness—I, apparently, can use database administration techniques.

Then there was the time I came home to find her with her hands handcuffed behind her, on her knees with a bowl of water, a can of shaving cream and a razor in front of her, her panties stuffed in her mouth, and a note Magic-Markered on her rounded little womanly belly saying, SHAVE THE SLUT.

At first I was alarmed and a little angry. “Jen, you know it's dangerous to handcuff yourself when you're all alone!” She looked sheepish and nodded over to the key sitting on the nearby table, and I relented a bit, my alarm giving way to the heat of the tableau before me.