Best Bondage Erotica of the Year

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  “I’m going to activate the device now,” Ada said, her voice muffled behind Jessamine’s petticoat. “I’ll use the lowest setting first.”

  “It activates?” Jessamine asked, but then her voice was stolen as the thing pressed against her began to hum and vibrate. Intense tingling spread from the button of flesh the device vibrated against to every part of her body. It was a divine feeling, like being drunk on wine or the lighter-than-air sensation after too many cigarettes. Jessamine clutched at the armrests of the chair, her legs and arms straining against the straps, and said only, “Oh!”

  The device moved in a circular motion, making Jessamine’s hips buck. “Oh!”

  “That’s perfect,” Ada said, with the tone of an engineer testing a new invention. One of her hands closed around Jessamine’s thigh to hold her in place. “I’m going to increase the vibration now.”

  The humming grew in pitch and volume and the tingling became more intense, flooding Jessamine’s body with pleasure. Her back arched while her hips thrust reflexively. She was torn between humiliation and pleasure for an instant, but then all thoughts were washed away in the agony of bliss that washed over her, radiating outward from that button of flesh. She moaned, unable to stop herself, all control lost under her friend’s tender ministrations and the miracle of the device. She felt her nether regions grow slick with the gush of pleasure.

  “Wonderful!” Ada declared, switching off the device and popping up between Jessamine’s legs with a triumphant grin. “You’re doing so well, Jessa.”

  “We’re not done?” Jessamine sighed. Her body relaxed into the chair as the tingling faded, her limbs filled with a languorous lightness and her mind cleared of all anxiety for the first time in weeks.

  “Oh goodness, no. That was only a mild demonstration of the device’s capabilities.” Ada disappeared behind the skirts again.

  “I don’t know that I can—oh!” The device probed at the entrance to her quim. She was so slick with juices after her first orgasm the hard metal slid in easily, stretching her flesh tunnel in a way that immediately put her in mind of Mister Hyde. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea—”

  But then Ada switched on the device, and it was vibrating inside her, and Jessamine was clutching at the armrests again. For all his skill in the bedroom, Mister Hyde had never made her feel anything like this. Sweat beaded her brow and the walls of her quim tightened around the shaft. Pleasure spread out from between her legs in waves, making her entire body twitch. The sound that emerged from her mouth was like the lowing of a cow, long and low and groaning.

  Ada increased the vibration. Jessamine longed to reach into her bodice and draw out one of her breasts so she could pinch her own nipple, but she couldn’t summon the words to ask for release. Ada’s fingers touched her hard button, fully aroused once again, and Jessamine screamed, hips thrashing.

  The vibration increased again and the little death crashed over Jessamine, wiping away reality for a long, intense moment. Her mind emptied of all but this intense pleasure, every sensation in her body narrowing to the point between her legs. Her vision filled with stars bursting and exploding like fireworks. Her body writhed, the muscles of her quim clamping down on the device.

  Eventually the orgasm faded and Jessamine lay limp and whimpering. Ada switched off the device and drew it from her friend. She immediately took it to the worktable and cleaned it with a cloth, placing it in a lacquered box like a treasure.

  Jessamine gulped air. “Ada. That was . . . splendid.”

  Ada appeared at her side with a notebook, frantically scribbling notes. “But how do you feel? What about the malaise?”

  Jessamine sighed, but it was a sound of contentment instead of melancholy. She looked around the workshop. Out the narrow windows she could see the blue sky and colorful wild-flowers, and for the first time since her arrival she found them beautiful. Her stomach rumbled, hungry, and her mouth salivated at the thought of the uneaten strawberries probably still on the luncheon table. She forced her mind to think of Mister Hyde. Her heart still clenched in her chest, but the sensation was easy to push away.

  “Better,” she said. “Thank you. You’re right; I might be cured by your miracle device.”

  Ada nodded. “It will probably require quite a few more sessions, but we’ve already made good progress.”

  Jessamine started. “More sessions?”

  Ada looked up from her notebook, smirking. Her eyes twinkled. “Daily. Until you’re cured. I hope that won’t be a problem?” With a few deft motions, she freed Jessamine’s right hand from its bonds.

  Jessamine returned her smirk. Smiling was an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation. “No. I suppose I should do whatever my expert therapist recommends. But Ada?”

  “Yes?”

  Jessamine reached up and looped her free hand behind Ada’s head, tangling her fingers in her friend’s unruly hair. She drew Ada’s mouth to hers and, before she kissed her, Jessamine whispered, “Next time let’s do this in a bedroom.”

  OVER UNDER

  Kendel Davi

  “Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it?”

  Away from the production executives, her Southern accent returns. Her vowels become longer as she relaxes into the natural speech pattern of her Central Texas upbringing. I acknowledge her presence with a nod and continue to neatly coil wires in the back of my camera van. I could do this in my sleep. After several decades I’ve mastered this technique to where it becomes a meditative exercise. After today’s shoot, that’s exactly where my mind needs to be.

  “You’d think they’d be a little more forthcoming knowing this could give them national exposure, don’t you think?”

  We’ve worked on many shoots together. We’d be considered acquaintances now, but there was a time when we were more than that. When she was a local correspondent our crazy hours easily transformed into decadent exploits to break up the unpredictability of our next assignment. That was years ago when she had dreams of making it to the national stage. She’s made those dreams a reality since then. She’d been on track to become the first African-American woman to head a national morning show. The network, however, went with someone they felt stockholders would be more “comfortable” with and she walked away. She took a few years off to travel but being in front of the camera was an addiction she couldn’t kick. Now she’s back, making her own rules, and brings some of that national skeptical sensationalism when it comes to covering alternate lifestyle stories.

  “I don’t know. Maybe they’ve seen some of your work?”

  “Fuck you, Rudy!” The smile on her face lets me know she isn’t as upset as she pretends to be. “This isn’t a ratings grab.”

  “Really? When did your interest in BDSM start, Danica?” I let my Southern accent flow to remind her I knew her before she was a media darling. “Why should they trust you? Every time they get portrayed in the media, they get it wrong. They’re the killers or some sort of exploitative red herring. People always go for the titillating rather than the truth. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched a show where a dominatrix wears a collar and that’s wrong on so many levels.”

  “You seem to know a lot about this, Rudy?” Her grin tells me I’ve revealed more than I thought.

  “I’m just saying . . . why do you think they held this event up here in the mountains miles away from anything? They gave you just enough to protect their image. A good journalist knows how to frame this.”

  “Oh, I know how to put it all together.” Danica steps closer to me and places her hand on my shoulder. “And you still didn’t answer my question?”

  “Oh, Dani!”

  A sweet and gentle voice calls out from the cabin. A group of well-dressed young executives stands together in a clump. Vera, a young blonde dressed more like she was taking a trip to a ski retreat than a summer outing, waves Danica over.

  “Fuck,” she groans. “I can’t deal with their bullshit right now. I’ll ride back to the lodge with
you. Just like we did in the old days. Plus, it sounds like we have a lot of catching up to do.” She glances at my hands before heading to the cabin. I go back to wrapping my cable, hoping she’ll be too busy bitching about the producers for me to say anything on the ride back down this mountain.

  Ninety minutes down this winding road and Danica’s barely taken a breath between stories. Normally, I would’ve paid more attention but the pitch darkness consumes everything in front of me. We’re a little over an hour away from the quaint little lodge the producers rented out for the production.

  “You really haven’t said much.”

  She kicks her legs up on the dashboard. It takes every ounce of strength not to glance. She still has on those thigh-high black leather stiletto boots from the shoot. The russet almond skin of her toned thighs captures some of the moonlight as her legs disappear up her short red leather skirt. I swallow hard and bring my focus back to the road.

  “You see how dark it is out here? Hell, that yellow line looks like it was last painted in the 1950s.” I slow down into a blind curve that dips past two enormous boulders that look as if they could smash into us. Danica clutches my thigh until we pass the imaginary danger.

  “After what we went through in the Cascade Range this should be a walk in the park.”

  That was one of the first times we worked together and definitely the most dangerous. We were covering a volcanic eruption that happened in the dead of winter. The mixture of snow, ash, and lava made it impossible to breathe, much less see.

  Our transportation guy left with the producers in a helicopter. I was the one to drive us safely out of there. When we’d arrived at her hotel, we released the excitement of our near-death experience on each other before we hit the shower. That report got her noticed by national networks. It was the start of her rise to national fame, and yet the fact that she’s brought it up now seems to serve a specific purpose.

  The streetlights in the distance are the first signs of modern civilization I’ve seen in over an hour. I give myself permission to glance at her for a moment. Even though it’s been almost a decade since we’ve worked together she somehow appears younger. Danica catches my gaze and gives me a coy smile. So far I’ve avoided the subject she desperately wants to discuss. I get a hint of a satellite signal on my radio. When I reach to turn up the volume, Danica grabs my thigh.

  “Look out!”

  The reflection from the headlights in the deer’s eyes flashes back at me. I slam on the brakes and guide my van toward the rocky soft shoulder, praying I have enough distance to avoid a collision. He was a massive beast, frozen in my path, and at this speed, even a slight hit would do major damage to my van. The white of his tail rushes by me as I pass to the left of him only to see a chunk of natural granite jutting up from the side of the road on my right. I swerve the front wheels to avoid a direct hit but my rear tire isn’t as lucky. I feel the van tilting as we slowly come to a stop.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  In my panic, I’d thrown my arm over to protect her from hitting the dashboard. Her vixen-red fingernails embed into the bare umber skin of my forearm. Her eyes fill with fear and excitement. She looks down at my arm and removes her fingernails from my flesh. “Sorry,” she says and then strokes the divots from the strength of her grip.

  I get out and use the light from my phone to inspect the damage. It was a perfect slice, about five inches long. I’d bought new tires for this trip at $350 apiece and in the blink of an eye, it’s all gone to shit. Danica opens the passenger door and lets her legs hang. The dome light captures her in an amber silhouette. I allow myself to get lost in her presence until the high-pitched hiss emitting from my brand-new tire brings me back to reality.

  “What about the spare?” she asks.

  “Not on this gravel. Maybe we should call base camp and see if they can find someone to come get you. I’ll wait here for a tow truck.”

  “That’ll take hours. I don’t mind waiting with you.” She steps completely out of the cab of the van and approaches me. I keep my focus on the tire until her quads are inches away from my face. The scent of the lilac body oil forces me to stand.

  “That’s up to you,” I reply.

  I call a tow truck. I know it will be hours before anyone can get here. My hope is that the producers panic and send someone to get Danica as soon as possible. I listen to the automated message, hoping a restless tow-truck driver is only moments away. The computerized voice barks in my ear and I lower the phone to my shoulder in distress.

  “Three to four hours? Hell, we could walk to the lodge from here in that amount of time.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure we can find something to occupy our time.” She places her hand on my shoulder and walks back to the passenger side of the van. I walk behind the van and look inside. Most of my cables are sprawled on the floor. This is a task I can occupy myself with until the tow truck arrives.

  “Shit,” I mumble and climb into the back of the van. “I hope none of these got damaged.” False anger projects in a tone I’m confident will draw Danica’s attention.

  “I can help if you show me how.”

  A laugh explodes from my mouth before I realize she’s serious.

  “What? I was reared on a farm, you know?”

  “You grew up on a ranch. Your father was an oil executive and the only reason he had cattle was to impress his clients. Did you forget that disastrous story you did on the black rodeo? Your ass was sore for about a month from falling off that pony so much.”

  Her glare burns into me as I chuckle. I do my best to hold back, but the image of her slipping off a kid’s saddle into piles of horse manure over and over again is too much to take.

  “That was a long time ago, Rudolph. I’ve learned a lot of things since then.”

  “So have I,” I respond.

  “I bet I’ll pick this up quicker than you think.”

  “Fine. Let’s start with the BNC cables.” A look of confusion comes over her face. “They’re the smallest ones I got.”

  I search through the piles of black wires and find a twenty-five-foot-long BNC cable. It really didn’t need to be re-coiled. In fact, most of the wires had retained their shape but separating them from each other would be a pain in the ass. I yank the Velcro wire tie open, hold one end of the wire in my hand, and toss the rest out of the back of my van.

  “Come on. That wire ain’t gonna coil itself.”

  Danica looks at the piles of cobra-like wires before stepping over them. I place the end of the BNC cable in her hand and step aside.

  “The key is to let the natural coil of the wire guide you. I barely use these so if you mess up, no harm, no foul.”

  “Are you gonna show me how to do this?” she pleads.

  I gently grab her arm, step behind her, and place my hands on top of hers.

  “Loosen your grip and look at where the cable bends naturally.” She relaxes her grip. The cable droops close to her extended hand. “Now, pull that into your body and watch what happens.” The cable falls into its first natural loop. She hooks her finger around the cable, grabbing mine in the process. “Good. That was the easy part. Now, for the test.” I use her hand as a guide and tenderly turn it underhand. I wrap my hand around hers, forcing her to grab the cable and then with a twist, I allow the cable to fall into its natural state before pulling it into her body to make the second loop. “See what I did there?”

  “Yeah,” she states. Her breath tickles my neck. I resist the urge to look down, feeling my eyes would reveal too much, but my cock decides to let her know what I’m feeling. She bucks her hips back into me. For a moment I freeze, much like that deer in the road, and then I wrap my arms around her and pull her tight.

  “Fuck,” I whisper.

  I could unzip and be deep inside her within seconds. I’m tempted but that would defeat the purpose of why we’re here. Danica presses her ass firmly against the head of my erection. I plant my hands on the small of her back, move to the
side, and she steps back into a pile of wire that wraps around her ankles.

  “Easy,” I say and lean her body up to where she can stand by herself.

  She tries to step forward but the wires have her locked in a pile of insulated black rubber cords. “Are you gonna help me out here?”

  Her fingers clamp against the BNC wire. I sit on the chair at the editing bay and look her over.

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  Her tone is demanding and I fight not to smirk.

  “On how well you coil that wire. I taught you all the steps. All you have to do is put the sequence together.”

  Danica stares at the wire in her hand. It appears she’s drawn a blank.

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I get to show you what you got wrong in your interview.”

  Something glimmers in her eyes. My cock jumps. I know what that look means and I need to stop her before she starts.

  “And you have to give a decent effort or you’ll have to figure out how to untangle yourself.”

  She wraps the wire around her elbow. I clear my throat and grab the other end of the cable before I lean back in the chair.

  “I mean it, Dani.”

  She tries to coil the way I showed her but keeps messing up on the second loop. She moves her feet, forcing the cables to tighten around her ankles. I shake my head to let her know she’ll have to try again. This time, frustrated, she gets the loop right. I flick the cable. She loses her grasp, reaches for the cable midair, and I pull the cable tight right as it reaches her wrists.

  “Did you forget who gave you the idea for that black rodeo story?”

  “What makes you think that?” she asks and then smiles. “So what did I get wrong with my story, Rudy?”

  “Mind if I show you?” I speak in an even and calm tone. “If things get too much all you have to do is say the word and I’ll free you.”