Best Bondage Erotica 2012 (5 page)

A. R. Shannon

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Snow white, just the way I like it,” he said, caressing my bare buttocks. “Like a blank slate.”

I didn't understand.

If he liked it blank and white as snow, what was I doing tied to this chair?

“I like the first mark best,” he said. “I like to make that first mark, and then I like to watch as you change colors under my hand.”

I could feel him reach down and pick up the leather glove he'd brought with him. He held it dangling by the hem and let the empty fingers drag over my flesh, tickling me. I squirmed a little over the back of the chair and he chuckled.

“They used to tickle the man who was going to be drawn and quartered by marking off the lines with the tip of the sword,” he told me. “He'd be stretched out tight between four horses, and the executioner would come and draw a pencil-thin line down his body, then across his belly. Imagine being spread-eagle like
that in the middle of the town square. Naked.”

I shuddered, unable to imagine it without my pussy getting wet just from the thought of being tied down helpless and on display to the whole village.

“You like some gruesome shit,” I told him. “Sir.”

“Not me,” he said. “You're the one who's wet over it.”

To prove it, he sunk a finger into my pussy, all the way up to the knuckle.

“Tell me you've never gotten hot over the description of a public whipping.”

I couldn't do that.

Not in good faith.

The truth was, ever since I was a child, such things turned me on.

“How would you like that, Lola?” he went on. “How would you like to be tied to the post, the back of your blouse torn all the way open for the lash in front of everyone? What would you think of that? Having all those people witness your shame? All those filthy, ignorant peasants applauding your whipping and jeering at you?”

“I wouldn't like it, sir.”

He said nothing, just tickled my butt with the glove some more.

“Will you like knowing this is going on the Internet?”

“Yes, sir. As long as no one can see my face, sir.”

He said, “They won't see your face. All they'll see is this beautiful ripe little ass of yours turned from white to pink to red.”

With that, he took the glove up in his hand like an implement and began to use it like one. He liked me to make a big deal out of my spankings, so I obliged him with a plaintive cry and a sudden jerk that was not at all fake.

“So much fuss, and we've barely gotten started?”

“I'm sorry, sir.”

He struck me with the glove again.

“How does that feel?” he asked. “Are we learning anything yet?”

“Ow! Yes, sir!”

He struck my thighs next, right above where my stockings ended. He struck fast and hard, multiple times, and before long, I was squirming around as much as the Velcro cuffs would allow, trying my best to kick and carry on, but suddenly, he was back to caressing me, his cool hand soothing on my hot bottom.

“How cruel I am,” he told me. “No warm-up or anything, just straight into the spanking.”

I could feel him moving around, and I knew he was putting on the glove now. I wondered what that would feel like, how badly it would sting.

I hadn't long to wait.

He drew back his hand and landed the first leather-clad spank. It stung like nothing else he'd ever done to me and I tried to get free of my bonds.

“Stop it. You know the protocol.”

What he meant was our safeword.

Lobster.

He let me catch my breath, then he pushed my head back down and hit me again.

“You've been a bad little girl, Lola, and I'm going to have to be quite severe with you this time.”

“Ow, sir, please. I'm sorry.”

“None of your lame apologies. This is the second time we've had to do this for the same thing.”

And suddenly, my spanking began for real, like he was fed up with me and at his wit's end to find some way to cure me of my
whorish ways once and for all. He spanked in a steady rhythm as he hit his stride, going into detail about why I deserved this punishment.

“What's it going to take, Lola? Huh?”

“I'm trying to be a better person,” I told him, each spank pushing me to jerk helplessly like I'd been shocked. Tears were running down my face now, collecting in big wet drops at the tip of my down-pointing nose before falling away.

“Then try harder.”

He picked up the pace for a minute or so, and I could picture the look on his face as he worked, that look of rapt attention as he concentrated on my punishment.

“You're getting nice and pink now,” he told me. “Now all I have to do is turn you red. And maybe when you're red, I'll just keep going until you're black and blue.”

“No, sir, please!”

Suddenly, he stopped.

“Why shouldn't I?” he asked me. “You bruised my heart when you fucked that guy, so why shouldn't I bruise this cute little butt of yours?”

Of course, there was no answer to that, so I fell silent again, as silent as I could, with all the slapping and snapping and sobbing going on in that room. I thought of the camera that was pointed right at me, bearing silent witness as he beat my ass.

Now I knew what it would mean to have all those people around, watching a public whipping at the post. It's supposed to be a deterrent, but I could only imagine how many people there were like me who actually got off on it. I thought of all the countless videos I've seen over the years, and how much I like to see other girls get spankings, especially from a man like mine who doesn't shy away from his duty.

I like to see them moan and squirm as they receive their
punishments, just as I like to moan and squirm as I receive mine.

He stopped again and untied me, ordering me up to kneel on the couch. I knew that meant he had decided in favor of more severity, and he pushed and pulled and arranged me like a rag doll until I was in the exact position he was looking for.

“You'd better not move an inch,” he told me.

Then I heard that frightening sound as he yanked his belt off, that frightening sound as it was freed of its loops with a sudden whoosh, then the jangling metallic sound as he gathered both ends in his hand.

The sound of that alone was enough to get me sobbing, and I'm not ashamed to say I begged a little.

“Please don't use the belt, sir. I'll never do it again.”

“I know you won't.”

He went to work right away, swinging the belt against my bottom with a loud angry snap each time it connected.

In the original Grimm's fairy tale, there was another character besides Snow White.

They never talked about her in the movie, and truth be told, I can't even remember how she ended up in the story.

All I remember is her name.

Rose Red.

Like my ass.

Lucy Felthouse

 

 

 

 

 

 

You know how some guys have a good-looking woman on their arm and like to call her their trophy wife, or trophy girlfriend? Well, once upon a time I reversed the trend by having a trophy boyfriend.

Ethan was hot. It wasn't just me that thought so, either. My friends would go all girly and flirty when he was around, batting their eyelashes and laughing at his lame jokes. We used to say (behind his back, of course—we didn't want to inflate his ego any further) that he looked like a young Tom Cruise. With his darker-than-night hair, startling blue eyes and movie-star smile, Ethan looked good on my arm, all right.

I guess you're wondering why on earth I'm talking about him in the past tense, if he was that perfect. The answer is simple: the guy was as dumb as a box of rocks. Sure, he looked good and was hotter than hell in the sack, but he just didn't have much between the ears. If you ended up on his team during the pub quiz, you'd give up before they'd even asked the first question.
Interesting conversations were nonexistent, and the chats we did have bored me to tears. There's only so much sports, reality TV and car talk a girl like me can take.

Now I know you're wondering why I kept him around in the first place. Well, I already dropped a hint. Ethan was damn good in bed. His body, just like the rest of him, was delicious. We may not have connected intellectually, but when he was around, I was constantly horny and would jump his bones at any opportunity. Much to his credit, he didn't mind. Like many guys, he was always up for some rough-and-tumble between the sheets and I took full advantage of the fact.

To say we had an adventurous sex life would be a completely accurate statement. Sure, if we were spending the night together we'd do it before we went to sleep and when we woke up, like many couples. We also played with toys, indulged in role-play and all that kind of thing, too. But when we were out and about and the urge became too much, we often didn't wait until we got home. We did it in grubby pub toilets, the washrooms in upmarket restaurants, parks, gardens, other people's houses… the list goes on.

We even did it in a theme park once. The place had this deserted old monument that no one gave two hoots about, so we slipped up the spiral staircase and made the most of the alone time. I'd never come so hard before in my life. The thought of thousands of people milling around just feet from us got me so aroused that I had to bite my hand to stop myself from crying out as my cunt clenched and squeezed around Ethan's cock.

As you'd expect in a relationship with no real connection, the novelty started to wear off. Yes, I still enjoyed sex with Ethan, but it became increasingly difficult to overlook the fact that we had no future. Plus the random comments and weird noises he made during sex became more and more noticeable. In the first
flushes of lust, I'd barely noticed it, but now, I just wished he would be quiet.

I decided it was time to call it a day. But I made plans to have some fun with him first. You know, something to remember him by. And vice versa.

Once I'd made the decision, I didn't drag it out for too long. The very next weekend I suggested spending the night in at his place. Knowing what that really meant (or so he thought), Ethan was totally up for it. So on Saturday afternoon, I packed my overnight bag, adding a few extras, and made my way over to Ethan's.

A little while later, after we'd eaten our takeout meal in front of the TV, Ethan started talking. It was just idle chitchat about nothing in particular, but I didn't want to hear it. I took our plates and dumped them in the kitchen, then sat back down on the sofa. I stemmed the flow of his yammer by putting a finger to his lips. He silenced instantly, his eyes widening. I couldn't tell if he was surprised that I'd shut him up, or pissed. I didn't give him a chance to tell me. Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to his.

Instantly, he put his arms around me and pulled me tighter to him, his tongue sliding into my mouth and slipping sensuously against mine. I could feel my pussy getting wet already. The realization that it would be the last time we'd have sex made it even hotter, somehow. I knew I was going to go all out and end our relationship with a bang: a fuck we'd never forget.

Pulling away, I stood up. I took Ethan's hand and he followed me wordlessly into the bedroom. Closing the door behind us, I turned to face him. He'd already gotten onto the bed and was lying down, stroking his cock through his jeans and wearing a cocky grin.

“Uh-uh,” I said, wagging a finger at him. “Get up. Then strip. Tonight, we're trying something new.”

Obviously a little surprised at my bossy tone, Ethan frowned, a little crease appearing between his eyebrows. Even when he was pulling faces, he looked gorgeous. I sighed.

“Now.”

Realizing I wasn't joking, this time Ethan did as I asked. Still a little unsure, he sauntered toward me and started to undress in what I suppose he thought was a sexy fashion. I fixed him with a glare.

“I haven't got all night, Ethan.”

Finally, the penny dropped. Understanding the new game at last, Ethan dropped his arrogant behavior and removed the rest of his clothes speedily. As the last garment landed on his pile of discarded clothing, I spoke again.

“Get the chair. Put it in the middle of the floor, facing me. Then sit on it.”

This time Ethan didn't need telling twice. I had no idea what he thought about this new dominant persona of mine, but it was clearly turning him on. His cock jutted proudly out of his pubic hair, precome already beading at its tip.

He sat on the chair and looked at me expectantly, awaiting my next move. I walked to where I'd placed my overnight bag and began rummaging inside. When I pulled my hand out with a pair of handcuffs dangling from my fingertip, Ethan grinned from ear to ear. Walking over to him, I made short work of cuffing him to the chair. I smiled as he pointlessly rattled his restraints. He wasn't going anywhere. Not without the chair, anyway.

“Ooh, you got me all trussed up, baby. What are you gonna do now? Are you going to strip for me?”

Again with the talking. With that, Ethan decided my next step for me. Popping the handcuff key down on the bedside table, I reached into my bag again and brought out a strip of
material. Pulling it taut between my hands, I moved back over to my captive. Getting the wrong idea, Ethan said, “Aww, so I don't even get to see you naked, baby? Now that's just—”

I put the material between his lips and tied it around the back of his head before he had a chance to finish his sentence. Blindfold, indeed! Why would I hide his eyes when they are the window to the soul, the very place I'd look for his reactions to what I was about to do to him?