Bondage bites, p.4
Bondage Bites, page 4
But when it’s Remy’s turn to fuck me, Jake is always as he is now, holding me down and watching.
Watching my face and Remy’s, the tableau of bodies, the play of Remy’s skin, the rich amber-brown color of the cognac for which—no kidding—he is named, against my pale, freckled complexion. Watching Remy’s dark cock as it moves in and out of my cunt, Remy’s ass clenching as he drives into me.
Jake never moves his hands from my body. I think that’s so he remembers not to touch Remy, not to stroke that velvety cognac skin, not to kiss Remy’s full, sensual mouth and most of all not to reach for Remy’s cock. Jake desires me, needs me, uses me hard and unrelentingly when it’s his turn.
But his eyes say he’s in love with Remy.
And I’m pretty sure he’s in love with Remy, like I am, for his dominance that doesn’t need rope and whips and toys to express itself.
Jake gets off on topping me, fucking me, but I think he longs to lie under Remy like I do, while someone or something holds him down to be taken. To be helpless in the face of Remy’s lust. I can see the need burning in Jake’s eyes as he watches Remy. Feel the need in the strength of his grip on my wrists, as if I am a lifeline that will save him from himself.
I’d hold him down for Remy, pin him to the bed with my slight weight so Remy could plow his ass the way Jake craves. And I’d gaze at the sight of the two men I love together and get off on the beauty of their bodies colliding.
But Remy doesn’t like men that way. He just likes sharing his sub with his best friend, gets off on our shared pleasure and seeing how Jake manhandles me. Maybe he’s lying to himself and there’s hope for Jake after all. But when the three of us are together, Remy can’t take his eyes off me.
And Jake can’t take his eyes off Remy, even when Jake’s inside me and Remy holds me down.
MISADVENTURES ON A VELCRO WALL
Kathleen Tudor
She’d known it was a bad idea from the start, but the temptation was too great. Kris had slipped into the goofy jumpsuit, tiptoed out into the backyard and taken a running start toward the trampoline. Her body had soared through the air, and she’d let it twist and flip until, splat, she’d landed smack against the Velcro wall, which had been set up for her sorority’s house party in the morning.
Upside down. In the dark. Alone.
She struggled against the Velcro and was shocked at how sticky the damn thing was. No matter how she twisted and pulled, it held her tight against the wall, and blood was already pooling in her head. She could call for help…but then everyone would know what sort of juvenile silliness she’d been up to.
“One arm. That’s all I need.” She braced as much as she could in her helpless position and tried to twist one arm free. How could a stupid suit of Velcro have her completely and utterly trapped?
“Babe?”
Oh, balls. She’d forgotten inviting her boyfriend over for some post-setup fun.
“Hi, John,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Could you give me a hand with this?”
He was struggling not to laugh, and Kris thought she might have blushed if all her blood wasn’t already in her face, anyway.
“How did you get up there?”
“I jumped, obviously.”
“Clearly. Why?”
“Well I—we couldn’t just set it up and not test it, right?”
“Clearly not.” A snort escaped, followed by a snicker, and Kris jerked, wishing she had one damn hand free so she could smack him. Of course, if she had a hand free, she wouldn’t need to smack him.
“Look, will you please just get me down?”
His laughter stopped all of a sudden, replaced with a wild grin and a light in his eyes. He paused to study her, and Kris resisted the urge to snap at him to hurry up. But when he finally moved, it wasn’t toward her. John reached for the crotch of his pants, slowly stroking the bulge that had appeared there.
A bulge, Kris did not fail to notice, that was right about eye-level for her at the moment.
“What will you give me for it?”
“John...”
“You have to pay toll, honey.”
“Someone will hear us!”
“Everyone’s either asleep or… busy. Come on, now…”
He unzipped, and the sound sent a marvelous shudder down—or up—Kris’s spine to lodge firmly between her legs. “Open wide…”
He stepped forward, his erection unsheathed before him, and Kris surprised herself by opening her mouth for him without hesitation, taking him in, strange angle and all. Strange, the difference that change in angle made. Like everything was brand new. She twisted her tongue around his cock, exploring and suckling as if for the first time.
John let out a low groan and braced himself against the stupid wall, his hips pumping slowly in and out of her mouth. Kris was dizzy from the blood in her head, dizzy from her mad flight, dizzy from arousal. If she had her hand free now, she’d unzip this ridiculous jumpsuit and let her fingers dance over her sex. Getting down could wait!
But she couldn’t, so she focused on the only thing she could do. Her tongue fluttered, teased and stroked across his cock as John fucked her mouth, first slowly, and then with a quick, ragged intensity as she found sensitive places she’d never searched for before. She was so aroused she thought she might burst, and her hips made mini-pulsing motions, her muscles tightening, clenching, straining.
She began to whimper around John’s cock, her entire awareness focused on the twin points of pleasure: his dick in her mouth and her clit, greedily sucking in every sensation it could. She sucked and teased with increasing desperation, as if she could transfer the sensation to herself if only she performed well enough…
And even without fingers or tongue on her sensitive bud, her body answered the fervent prayer her body was making, and she shuddered as pleasure washed through her in waves made unfamiliar by her upside-down orientation.
John’s voice, harsh and distant: “Are you—? Oh, fuck, baby… Oh, holy fuck…” His salty heat hit the back of her throat and she swallowed instinctively, sucking until his cock stopped pulsing in her mouth, and he finally pulled away.
“That was—” He shook his head, his expression dazed, but Kris could only smile.
“The first installment. Now get me down and let’s get inside so I can pay in full.”
MINUTE TO MINUTE
Tenille Brown
She read somewhere that if you could make it a day, you could make it a week. If you could make it a week, you could make it a month. And if you could make it a month you could make it a year.
But this was the first day, and it had only been thirteen hours, and Jeanette wanted a cigarette bad.
Joe came in from work and caught her in the corner, sweating and bouncing her knee.
“You okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin, like I need to be tied down or something.”
Jeanette realized as soon as she said it that Joe’s mind would go there, that his eyes would dart across the room looking for something to bind her with. Most times she didn’t even have to ask, but the fact that she had even made the suggestion in jest set Joe’s dirty-minded wheels in motion.
“I didn’t mean that literally, Joe,” Jeanette said, but she hoped he didn’t think she was protesting.
Joe held up a finger. “I know, but I think you might be onto something. This quitting smoking thing is hard. And maybe you aren’t the type who can take it day by day. Maybe you’re the type who has to take it hour by hour or even minute by minute.”
By this time, he had made his way back to her with both sets of curtain ties in his hand, four ties in all, wrapping them around his wide palm.
The shaking had slowed, and the sweating had cooled. She was now focusing on the ties instead.
“The chair won’t do,” Joe said. “I’ll need you on the bed.”
Jeanette nodded and followed him to their master suite.
She knew that he needed her on the bed because the bed had high posts (the reason they bought the bed in the first place), perfect for attaching one’s extremities to, and Jeanette was just the right length to lie flat on her back and stretch her arms and legs toward the four corners to be tightly bound.
“Get naked.”
It was a soft command, but a command nonetheless and Jeanette quickly got rid of her tank top and shorts. She tossed her bra and panties on the floor near the night-stand, then crawled on top of the high queen-sized bed.
Joe unraveled the ties so that they hung from his hands. It was the first time in those thirteen hours that a cigarette was the farthest thing from her mind. What she was thinking of instead was being tightly bound, being barely able to move while Joe had his way.
Jeanette closed her eyes as Joe wound the toffee-colored strap around one wrist, tying it to the bed. He did the same with the other and followed suit with her ankles.
“Do you still want a smoke?”
“Not as much,” Jeanette said, “but the urge is still there.”
“Would you rather something else to get you through the day, through the hours, the minutes even?”
“Yes.”
Joe had already joined her on the bed before she answered, hovering over her as he nestled between her legs. His beard and moustache grazed her thighs as he nuzzled her there leaving her to wonder…
Was he only going to touch?
Did he want to fuck?
Was he going to forget about it all and just tease her instead?
No…
Jeanette wiggled as she felt the moist heat from Joe’s open mouth. He was going to use his tongue.
It was then that she became restless again, looking over at the clock as it changed from minute to minute. Jeanette was defenseless against Joe’s tongue, even when her arms and legs were completely free. Even then she would scoot back on the bed, away from the torturous pleasure he would give her with his soft kisses on her pussy. She’d pull at his ears, clasp his head between her thighs so he would at least slow down.
He never did.
And here he was now, working his tongue slowly. Joe was mapping a wet trail along the folds of her slit, gently nipping at her swelling clit. Jeanette moved the only part of her that was free, lifting her middle off the mattress.
She met his mouth and he continued his tender assault rendering her helpless, and her body fell back onto the mattress. He was loud with his sucking and licking but it did little to distract from the feeling, the uncontrollable urge she had to come right then and there.
Still, the minutes went by. One or two he spent on her clit, three more nuzzling her thighs with his wet nose, another seven with his fingers in her pussy and then her rectum.
The minutes became too frustrating and Jeanette began counting in seconds instead, like how many it would take before she poured her climax into his mouth, onto his fingers and the bed.
It only took ten seconds more and she was vibrating from head to toe as if currents were running through her body. And Joe was smiling, licking his lips as he lifted himself from between her legs and began to untie her, one extremity at a time.
Lethargic now instead of restless, Jeanette made her way to the shower. She decided this was exactly how she would make it through the days, the weeks, the months with no cigarettes.
Lips to lips, second to second, minute to minute.
TOP GAME
Annabeth Leong
Nick grinned at Sandy when she strode into the party, domme boots clinking. “Lots of hot girls here tonight,” he said, “begging for a sure hand and a rough rope. Need me to show you how to tie that Somerville Bowline you’ve been trying to get right for ten years now?”
Sandy narrowed her eyes at him, but smiled back. They liked to rib each other. “I’d have to find someone who knows a Somerville bowline from a granny knot,” she answered, then whacked his sweet ass. His leather pants squeezed it into such a tight, firm shape that it smacked back, leaving her palm tingling.
“We should settle this once and for all.” Nick leaned into her.
Sandy raised an eyebrow. Previous attempts to “settle things” had resulted in one or the other of them more tied up than a female executive’s schedule, being gloriously and mercilessly fucked. Sandy had always wished they would try to work out their differences more often.
She snaked her hand up the back of Nick’s faux-torn shirt and yanked him close, sinking the tips of her nails into the base of his neck. “I’m going to give it to you so hard…” Lust drove the words through Sandy’s clenched teeth with force and precision.
Nick danced away. “Ah-ah-ah. Who declared you top?”
“I’ll fight you for it.” Sandy reached for him, but he dodged.
“Remember those hot girls I mentioned?” Nick made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the surrounding sea of dimly lit flesh clad in latex, leather and PVC. “How about they decide?”
Sandy crossed her arms over her chest, plumping up her breasts even more than her corset already did. “What do you have in mind?”
Nick must have planned ahead, because with dizzying speed he lined up ten dazzling girls to act as judges. “First, we’re going to do an aesthetic trial,” he said, and Sandy found herself spinning a delicate dragonfly sleeve over the arms of a buxom, pale-haired beauty with biceps as chiseled as a Michelangelo.
She tied accent knots with glittering rope, then pulled the woman close while she waited for Nick to finish his tie. “May I touch you?”
The blonde nodded vigorously, rubbing her hair against Sandy’s nose. Sandy spread her fingers out over the woman’s soft, round stomach and stroked her way up to the undersides of her breasts.
The group declared Nick winner for aesthetics, but Sandy didn’t care because by then she’d bared the blonde’s breasts and nibbled them until the other woman wriggled and hopped and shrieked. Admittedly, the pastime had ruined the neat lines of the sleeve.
The next test, “technical skill,” wasn’t nearly as fun because it only involved tying a double coin knot in the air while everyone watched. Sandy won, so that was something. She and Nick were tied.
Next, they tested speed. The judges divided into two groups of five, and Sandy went to work. She tied a chest harness on the first woman in line, lifting her breasts with careful loops and teasing her nipples into prisons of hemp. Keeping her rope continuous, Sandy attached the second woman to the first by the hair, so every shake of the second’s head made the first’s breasts jiggle. A simple double-column tie to the third woman’s wrists trapped her fingers near the second’s cunt—which, by the smell of things, had gotten very wet.
Across the way, Nick had chosen a faster but less creative method, tying hands together so that his submissives seemed engaged in a group hug, not a sex game.
Sandy didn’t want him to win. She had plans. She wanted to tie a nasty little web around his balls, attach it to his nipple rings, then lube his ass with the tip of one finger until his muscles fluttered beneath her touch and he begged for her strap-on.
She decided she didn’t like letting Nick make the rules. She crossed to his side, pulling the three women she’d tied by the loose end of the rope. Nick’s first submissive sighed when Sandy grabbed her and whipped a zigzagging lightning harness over her body. Sandy ran two thin ropes down between the woman’s legs— the “happy knots” men tied never actually wound up rubbing the clit, so it worked better to run lines around the outer labia, squeezing moistening cunt lips together and drawing blood to the area.
Nick appeared moments later. “What are you doing?”
“Changing the game,” Sandy said. She formed a quick, questioning loop around his wrist. “I want your ass.”
“That’s not fair,” he said, but stood and pouted rather than moving away. He didn’t look like a man who wanted to win.
Sandy grinned. She roped him with brutal efficiency, making sure he felt the crack and bite of the hemp against his skin. “Speed matters, but you can’t be a lazy boy. You gave your girls boring ties. I think you’ll have to make it up to them.”
She pushed Nick to his knees, then tugged the subject of her most recent tie closer. The woman’s inner labia, already a delicate purple, had deepened in color. The tips emerged from her trimmed, dark pubic hair, glistening. “Lick,” Sandy ordered, and Nick dipped his head with adorable shyness and complied. Sandy nodded her approval and reached for the next judge so she could plan her next tie.
“You have a lot of pussies to please,” she informed Nick as she considered. Her own pussy dripped, but she didn’t like to rush. Sandy planned to wait until Nick could hardly work his jaw anymore, then ease the tip of her strap-on into his ass with exquisite patience, so slowly she’d make herself come three times before she even got all the way into him. She stroked the top of his head. She planned to settle things. She had all night.
IF ONLY
Kiki DeLovely
And I would begin to rock slowly on your lap. A playful game at first that nonetheless makes you hard and harder with every passing second, with each and every shifting of my weight to and fro, with the rhythmic motion that’s profoundly imbedded in your muscle memory of more lascivious activities. The backs of my thighs pressing into the tops of yours, my ass sweetly stirring your cock. That delectable, hypnotic undulation would quickly morph into a more and more desperate writhing. Salacity and intent in my eyes while I grind against you. Wrapping my hands around the back of your neck, dragging my nails down slowly, as I’d lean into your ear and whisper, “Please, Sir?” The redolence of agony heavy and ragged on my breath, revealing just how badly I need you inside me right now… your mind still unconvinced as to whether or not I’m truly deserving of reward. Your hard-on not needing a moment’s more persuasion.
