Best Bondage Erotica 2013 Page 6

  I paused, more to collect myself than to give Max any relief. This was proving way too arousing for comfort. My cock was straining against my jeans, and it didn’t help that with each spank Max rubbed against it.

  “You see where I’m going with this, don’t you, honey?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me.”

  “You’re punishing me for every man I’ve looked at and imagined inside me.”

  I knew she had chosen those words to make me jealous, and it worked, but my dick twitched all the same.

  “Exactly. Just be grateful I’ve limited myself to the times I’ve caught you in the last few months. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.”

  Thirty-five spanks later and Max was writhing all over me. I could feel the heat radiating off her ass, and I knew she must be tender, but she never moved her hands. She did whimper a lot toward the end, tried to avoid the last few blows, but I think that was just a show for my benefit, and besides, we had a safeword if she needed it.

  I checked the clock and ordered her to her feet. We had about eight minutes left. It had been ages since I’d had her mouth on me, but after her crack about the predictability of my desires, there was no way I was going to ask for a blow job.

  The spanking had aroused her more than I thought it would. The patch of silk that covered her mound was glistening and damp and I thought I could make out the outline of her sex lips. She knew what I was looking at, and had this adorably embarrassed expression on her face. So I took pity on her. I blindfolded her with my tie before I pushed her to her knees. Before I tied her arms together behind her back and secured her wrists to her ankles. Before I stuffed the cushion between her legs and told her to ride it and make herself come.

  Round Two—Max

  Marc had surprised me with how inventive he’d been. The spanking had lit up all the nerve endings in my body, and the combination of being tied up and performing for an unseen audience had pushed me right over the edge. He whipped the blindfold off me just before I came and held my chin so I had to meet his eyes as the waves crashed over me. The intimacy unnerved us both.

  I was shocked when I won the second round of our little war, considering how shaky I felt. But then I wasn’t exactly playing fair. I had flashed Marc a glimpse of my pussy, which I’d waxed totally bare on an impulse, and he tripped over and landed at my feet. Perfect. He was about to get up when I kicked him off balance and he fell on his back with his arms by his sides. I kneeled on his biceps immediately. I like to think I could have held him there by my own might, but the fact is my dress had ridden up over my thighs and my spread, wet sex was utterly exposed.

  When the requisite five seconds were up, Marc tried to grab my hips and pull me down to him, but he couldn’t while his arms were pinned. I got to my feet and moved out of his reach.

  “My turn now. Take off your clothes.”

  When he was naked, I set one of the heavy oak dining chairs in the center of the room and motioned for him to sit down.

  He looked nervous.

  I bound him to that chair with two brocaded and tasseled curtain sashes, winding one around his chest and arms, and the other between and around his legs. Seeing Marc captive like that did things to me. Dark things.

  I got another chair for myself so I could sit facing him, so close our knees almost touched. His prick looked angry, all blood-flushed and swollen. It twitched under my scrutiny.

  “Honestly, Marc, that’s very flattering, but you need to exercise better control over your reactions. It might have helped you win the last round.”

  He muttered something under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  “I said, ‘Not bloody likely.’ The contest was over when you flashed your quim at me.”

  “Oh, that’s right, you haven’t seen her totally bare, have you?”

  With a casual grace I stood up and stripped out of my dress, then repositioned myself astride the chair.

  “Go on then, I don’t mind if you stare.”

  And stare he did. The blatant hunger on his face almost made up for the last year of neglect. But he was struggling against his bonds now, and that just wouldn’t do.

  “Stop moving, Marc, right this minute.”

  I drew my legs up, and pressed the stiletto heels I was still wearing into the center of each powerful thigh. I kept them there until he did as he was told, until I left marks, each circular imprint a bloodless stigmata. When I was convinced he could be trusted again I stood in front of him. His gaze flickered over me like wildfire as I circled my clit with two fingers and then pushed them deep inside me.

  “Oh fuck, that’s hot,” Marc groaned.

  I drew those fingers in a wet trail up over my body, stroking the sensitive undersides of my breasts, plucking at my nipples until they peaked sharply. I painted those stiff points with my arousal and leaned over Marc’s hungry mouth, letting him taste me just for a few seconds. It would have been all too easy to surrender to him, but there were too many other things I wanted to do.

  I crouched down and sank my nails into his hard thighs. He inhaled sharply, but didn’t move. He didn’t complain when I scored red trails all the way down to his ankles, or when I licked my palm and slapped his cock over and over again. It was only when I lightly bit my way up his shaft, degree by agonizing degree, that he cried out for my mercy. But goddess help me if that wounded look in his eyes didn’t make my clit throb and swell and jump.

  He was looking at me as if I was a stranger. He was looking at me with awe.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  And to be honest, I didn’t know. I wasn’t my old self, and I wasn’t the fierce persona I had intended to adopt when I tied him to the chair what felt like hours ago. I was adrift, cut loose from the ropes that had tethered me to convention and the conservative, safe life I realized with a start did not make me happy. For the first time in years, I felt free.

  Then again, I was not the one bound to a chair.

  Marc was still watching me, and I felt such a rush of love that I stopped tormenting him and took his patient cock into my mouth. I licked and sucked and kissed it all over, rubbed my palm over the crown, tugged at his balls. The sounds he made were like music to me, and so was the stream of invective when I stopped. What can I say? It made me feel powerful, to deny him like that.

  “I’m sorry, I’m afraid our time’s up.”

  “Oh, you prick-teasing bitch, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what? You’ll teach me a lesson?”

  “We’ve still got one round to go.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve still got two minutes left.”

  And with that I tipped his chair gently to the ground and lowered myself over his mouth.

  Round Three—Draw

  We both had a strategy to win that final round. Max intended to stun me into submission with her cunt, and I intended to hold her down and fuck her, but when her fifteen minutes of victory ended and she let me loose, I just wanted to make her come. I wrapped my arms around her waist and she wrapped her lips around my cock, and it was better than I ever remembered. When she came, mouth still on me, it was in great shuddering gasps that shook through both of us and set off my own release.

  The clock chimed.

  “Game over,” she panted. “I’m willing to concede the last round was a draw.”

  “Done,” I agreed.

  Nothing engenders magnanimity in a man like world-class head. Plus, it really was a draw—we had held each other in place for much longer than a minute…

  “If you’d won outright,” I asked, “what would you have wanted as your prize?”

  She rolled onto her side and stroked me until I was hard again.

  “I would have wanted you, inside me.”

  The sash still hung loosely around my arm, and with it I bound our right hands together and made her a promise.

  “I’m going to fuck you, Max; I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll never think of another man
again.”

  And so I did.

  FEELING THE HEAT

  Lucy Felthouse

  Watching her boyfriend, Taylor, as he picked up the mug of coffee and made to head straight back outside, Maisie let out an exaggerated sigh. She folded her arms for good measure.

  Taylor turned to where she sat at the kitchen table with a magazine. “What’s up, babe?”

  She raised her eyebrows, unable to believe that he didn’t already know the answer to the question. Then, realizing she was going to have to spell it out for him, she did just that.

  “One, you didn’t thank me for the coffee I made you. Two, you’re spending more time in that fucking garage than with me lately. I’m beginning to think you’ve got another woman stashed in there, rather than that bloody car!”

  Crossing the room to where she sat, he bent and dropped a kiss on her hair. “I’m sorry, Mais. Thank you for the coffee.”

  With that, he headed back toward the door. He was almost out of it when Maisie spoke again. “Is that it?”

  He spun to face her again, the movement inevitably making him spill coffee on the floor. “What do you mean, is that it?”

  “I mean, you thanked me for the coffee, under duress. But what about the car?”

  “What about it? It’s broken. I need to fix it.”

  “It’s a heap of shit.”

  “It’s a heap of shit that gets us from A to B, and without it, we’re pretty much screwed. And you know we can’t afford anything else. I’m fixing it out of necessity, not to annoy you!”

  She knew he was right, but she was still so disgruntled that there was no way she was going to admit it.

  “Huh,” she said, a parting shot as Taylor returned to the garage, “you could’ve fooled me.”

  She wasn’t sure if he’d heard her, as he didn’t react. She hadn’t shouted but hadn’t exactly mumbled, either, so there was a good chance that he knew exactly what she’d said and was now quietly fuming in the garage.

  And now, to add insult to injury, he’d buggered off, leaving her to clean up the coffee spill on the floor. She stood, shoving her chair back so hard in the process that it crashed into the adjacent cupboard. The possibility that it might have chipped the paint pissed her off even more. Stomping to the sink, she grabbed a cloth and moved to mop up the spill.

  Once she was finished cleaning up the coffee, Maisie threw the cloth back into the sink and stalked into the garage. The sight of Taylor standing there casually sipping from his mug sent her already frayed temper to fever pitch.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, staring daggers at him.

  Taylor sighed. “What now, babe?”

  She knew full well how unreasonable she was being, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Once her temper took over, it was best just to let it rage until it burned out. Taylor was used to it by now. He’d long since stopped arguing with her, knowing whatever he said would be wrong.

  “What now? Are you kidding me? You claim you’re busy fixing the car, and I come out here and you’re standing around drinking coffee!”

  She expected him to come back with some quip about being allowed a break, or something. What she didn’t expect was for him to place his mug carefully on a shelf, move so he was standing right in front of her, then grab her wrists.

  “Let me—”

  “Shut up,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. His face was stony, his grip firm, and despite how pissed off she was with him, Maisie felt a tug of arousal low down her abdomen.

  Taylor continued. “I’m fed up with your bitching. I am fixing that car for us, you understand?”

  “B—”

  “I’m not done.” He squeezed her wrists, causing her to wince. “I have no choice but to fix the damn car—we need it. So if you’re so bothered about it, you can help me.”

  A multitude of thoughts and questions went through her mind. But before she had a chance to pull anything to the forefront and voice it, Taylor was tugging her toward the shelving unit where he’d put his drink. He grabbed something, then steered her so her back was to the trunk of the car.

  He shoved her so she had no choice but to sit down. Then, he moved to the side of the car, grabbed her arm and used whatever it was he’d retrieved from the shelf to secure her arm to the side mirror. Twisting, she saw it was some kind of rubbery, twisty tube thing. Almost like a pipe cleaner, but much thicker, sturdier and not furry.

  Opening her mouth to protest, she was silenced by a look from Taylor as he walked to the other side of the car and secured her free arm in the same fashion.

  “So,” he said, his lighter tone belying his mood, “you gonna help me out then, babe?”

  “I don’t see how—”

  “Don’t worry, it’s very simple. You sit there, your pretty little ass on the car, and I’ll rev the engine. You can tell me from the heat and the vibrations what the problem is.”

  Knowing nothing about cars beyond how to operate one and fill it with fuel, Maisie had no idea if he was joking or not. She suspected he had some ulterior motive. Perhaps he hoped hot metal burning her arse would shut her up. She wriggled, testing her restraints, but it was useless. A flicker of fear wavered through her body. Was he really going to burn her? She had a denim skirt on, sure, but what protection would that be from the heat of an engine?

  Maisie heard the car door open, and the vehicle dipped as Taylor got in. Then the chug of the engine, which fired immediately. It obviously has no problems starting. A couple of heavy pushes on the accelerator had the vibrations rolling through her body, and despite her indignation at being trussed up like a turkey—what if someone ambled past the half-raised garage door?—Maisie felt juices pooling in her rapidly swelling pussy. If he carried on revving the car up like that, the juices would soon leak down her crack, seep through her underwear and skirt and start dripping onto the hot metal beneath. And serve him right, too.

  The slam of a car door, and suddenly Taylor was in front of her.

  “So,” he said with a smirk, “any idea what’s wrong with it, yet?”

  His gaze raked her body, lingering on her tits—nestled in a tight top—and her groin. The position she was in meant that she’d had to part her legs for stability, and so from Taylor’s vantage point, there would be a view right up her skirt. No doubt he could see the stain spreading across her thong. The widening of his grin told her he’d noticed just that.

  “Well?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  Now that the engine had been running a little while, she felt her asscheeks and the backs of her thighs beginning to heat up. Currently, though, it was nothing she couldn’t handle. The vibrations, on the other hand, were slowly pushing her in the direction of an orgasm and making it difficult for her to concentrate. If she pushed her ass harder against the car, maybe the vibrations would feel more intense, and get her off more quickly—

  A sharp slap just above her right knee snapped her back to the present.

  “Well?” Taylor said again, more loudly.

  The pain in her leg, which was rapidly morphing into heat, fed her temper further. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tay. Even if there was some magical way of knowing what was wrong with a car by sitting on its trunk, it wouldn’t be me that knew how to tell, would it? Stop being a prick, and let me go.”

  She yanked on her wrist restraints to emphasize her point.

  “You’re joking, right?” Taylor said, stepping closer to her and standing between her parted feet. “Let you go? When I’ve got you precisely where I want you? I don’t think so.”

  Maisie watched as Taylor’s hand moved between her legs and up her skirt. She gasped as his fingers contacted the sodden material of her thong, pushing against the sensitive, aroused flesh beneath. Her head lolled back as he pulled the gusset of the thong to one side and slipped his digits between her swollen, slick labia.

  She gave an appreciative moan. “Well, somebody’s horny. What is it, Mais? The vibrations from the engine, or being tied up?” he c
ontinued, clearly not expecting an answer. “Or perhaps it’s both?”

  Maisie yelped as he entered her with two fingers, pumping them slowly in and out of her sodden core.

  “Fuck, Mais. You’re so tight. And hot. And…oh fuck it.”

  He pulled out, only to yank open his belt and fly and release his cock, which was ready and raring to go.

  “Want it?” he said, with an arrogant grin.

  Maisie nodded. God yes, she wanted it. Only…

  She wriggled, noticing that the heat from the car was increasing. It wasn’t yet uncomfortable, but it was getting close enough to make her aware of its rising temperature.

  Taylor watched her every move, then clearly realized what the problem was. He reached down and touched the shiny metal that hid the engine from view. Then he grinned.

  “It’ll be all right, Mais. We’ll just have to be quick, is all.”

  He gave her a wink, then grabbed her legs and pulled her so her arms were stretched out as far as they would go, and her ass was pressing against Taylor’s straining dick. Straining her neck to watch, Maisie groaned in pleasure as her lover maneuvered the tip of his cock to her entrance, then paused for only a second before thrusting in to the hilt.

  Given that her arms were tied, and Taylor was holding her legs, she was completely at his mercy. The knowledge sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through her body, and she did her best to writhe and thrust her hips beneath Taylor, hoping he’d take the hint and fuck her harder.

  She had no idea whether it was because of her movements, or because of his comment about being quick, but he picked up his pace considerably. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs as he rocked her on and off his cock like some kind of fucking machine. She didn’t care. The combination of all the stimuli meant that she was hovering on the very edge of her orgasm, and she knew it wouldn’t take very much to trigger it. She just hoped she came before she got burned—literally.

  “Tay…”

  “It’s okay, babe. I’m nearly there.”

  Sure enough, after a series of thrusts so rough that she wondered if the car would end up with a permanent imprint of her ass, Taylor came with a roar. He reached down to pinch her eager clit, and she plummeted into orgasm even as her lover climaxed inside her. A scream peeled from her throat as the delicious feeling radiated throughout her body, and her cunt convulsed around Taylor’s cock, milking it of every last drop of spunk.