Free Best Bondage Erotica 2012 by Rachel Kramer Bussel Page A

using my favorite purple tie as a leash. I’m so glad I wore it for the occasion; it has a choking, textured softness that proclaims her ownership and drives me over the edge. Tonight there’s a recklessness in the width of her toothy, overwhitened grin and the way she won’t give me enough slack to breathe. But this isn’t about air. I’ve had enough of that. I want to be submerged, suffocated—and she knows it.
    Marley gets down onto her hands and knees, her hair brushing across my cheek. At my eye level in the doorway, she
whispers one word in my ear, a subtle caress of air across my cheek that tightens my nipples to sensitive peaks against my button-down. Our eyes connect and a current of pleasure leaps and circles in my gut. There’s no question of who holds the power. Her soft, peach lips draw close to the side of my mouth, like she’s going to kiss me: all a lie.
    â€œCome,” she has whispered.
    I do. Her perfectly shaped ass as she walks away is a homing beacon to my hunger. I don’t need her to lead me anymore. By now I’ve worn tracks in the old Persian rug that splits her living room in half. I know my way home. Marley waits, legs crossed on the edge of the bed. She licks her wicked lips with a haughty gaze and I shudder.
    Will you hate me if I tell you my heart leaps at all the smooth leg that shows under her frilly dress that I never liked in the first place? That she wore it in hopes of vexing me means nothing. I’m staying. And she’s captivating—a glint of pure mischief in her gaze—as she crooks her finger in my direction. Come when called? Always, Mistress, for you and only you. This is familiar territory. Her long finger, freshly manicured, extends toward her shoes.
    â€œLick them.”
    We’ve never explored this before. Still, there’s no hesitation. Mindful of the sharp stiletto, I start with the tip and work my way down in long, slow licks. Plastic and bitterness on my tongue only make me eager for what’s to come later. She threads her hand through my short hair and softly strokes me. My gaze is downcast so I can’t read her expression. My tongue seems to please her, because she’s humming and a shudder makes my slightly hunched posture hard to bear. Never would I have considered this sexy—except that never has been redefined as now. Right this minute, licking her shoe is the sexiest thing I’ve
ever done. Because it pleases her, and I live to please, a thrill that makes me naughty and alive.
    Against the fabric of her dress I get a glimpse of her hard, petite nipples through her bra. Instantly, my mouth grows dry with want for them in my mouth, with the desire to suck and nibble on her tender peaks. Yet, I continue to tongue her Jimmy Choos or Manolos because it makes me happy, and that’s made my panties so damp it’s a wonder she hasn’t remarked on the scent of my arousal in the air.
    â€œThat’s enough.”
    A position is assumed according to code. I’m on my knees awaiting her next order with head down and hands clasped at my lower back, D/s delights wrapped in a nice little bow with submissive etiquette on top; a code of our nights together that only we can decipher. When I glance up quickly through my lashes, there’s a touch of pride in her smile. Maybe she’s not really gone. I wait and count the erratic beats of my pulse, finding the strength to harness my need for her until she’s given me direct orders. What takes seconds feels like hours.
    â€œStrip.”
    I’m hardly self-conscious; static calm drifts through my brain and sits comfortably with me as I settle into my submissive space: my happy place. Nothing exists there but the tingle across my skin and her gorgeous, lusty gaze that penetrates my heart. One button is undone on my button-down shirt. Now two. Another. Inside I am zen. Outside, my body writhes for pleasure. Every brush of my fingertips