Best Bondage Erotica of the Year, Volume 2

by Rachel Kramer Bussel

  “It seems to me,” he says, “that it would be fair to say you’ve been thinking about things that scare you lately. Is that right?”

  Cami nods.

  “And that you’re trying to find the courage to confront those fears?”

  Another nod.

  “So how do you feel about trying something else that used to scare you?”

  “Nervous.”

  “Nervous as in you don’t want me to do it?”

  She thinks for a moment. In a way, the thing she knows he’s referring to—him going down on her—and the fact of having a baby, are not so dissimilar. They both rely on her trusting that her body will do what it’s supposed to. She’s never been good at that. Until now.

  “No. I’d like to try.”

  “Good girl,” he says, and she feels both her mouth and her cunt get wet.

  “One extra challenge,” he says. “No nervous jiggling. Pleasure is one thing, but if you’re trembling with anxiety, I’m going to stop, okay? I can’t promise you’ll get any cock later, either, unless you do what I say.”

  “You bastard.”

  “You love it.”

  The problem is, she kind of does.

  For the first thirty seconds or so that his mouth is on her, she thinks she’s made a terrible mistake. All she can focus on is what she might taste like, and the fact that he could be hating every minute because she’s not shaved bare. And then suddenly, her body overrides her brain and she couldn’t care less what happens, or what he’s thinking, as long as he doesn’t stop until she comes.

  Her anxious thoughts have vanished, every single one of them, as if her mind were a disc that had been wiped. He has two fingers inside her, thrusting, and his tongue is flicking rhythmically against her clit. She is only vaguely aware that she is screaming his name—her own voice sounds strange to her, as if it were somebody else making all the noise.

  His strong hands hold her thighs wide apart, his tousled head the only thing she can focus on. Her eyes are screwed shut with the sheer intense pleasure of it all and then the pleasure crests and breaks, leaving her exhausted and panting beneath him.

  When she looks like she’s begun to recover, he asks, “How was that?”

  “Amazing,” she says. “I loved it.”

  He moves up the bed to snuggle beside her. “All that time you were so sure you’d hate it . . .” he murmurs.

  She flinches. Is he suggesting that she’s letting doubts get in the way of having a baby, too?

  “I need time to get my head around stuff,” she says. “It’s just who I am.”

  He smiles. “I know,” he says. “It’s just who you are, and who you are is also wonderful.”

  He’s silent for a moment, and she wonders if he’s fallen asleep. And then, from where his face is nuzzled in her shoulder, she hears him whisper, “And if you decide it’s right for you, I know you’d be a wonderful mother, too.”

  THE WEIGHT OF COMMAND

  Anne Stagg

  Captain Salgado of the GCS Epona. Mission Log: 257913.12. Received distress signal from civilian-transport Boudicca at ship’s time 0300, stating they were under attack from a Vespertine warship. We proceeded to coordinates. Pause recording.

  What a shit-show, Beatriz thought as she sipped her tea. The fragrant ginger and honey brew had cooled since her yeoman had shoved it into her hand an hour ago. The film of cloying sweetness coating her tongue made her grimace.

  Everything had gone tits up the minute the Epona dropped out of the light-stream and into regular space. If tactical hadn’t started firing right away, she wouldn’t be alive to worry about cold tea.

  Scrubbing at her face with both hands, she stifled a groan. The weight of captaincy left her breathless, crushing the reason out of her until she was gasping for air.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

  The communication light on her console blinked, followed by a staccato series of buzzing sounds that made her teeth ache. When she punched the comm button, a jolt of pain shot up the length of her arm.

  “Fucking hell.” She shook her hand out. “Salgado, here.”

  “Go easy on the comm button, Captain.” Commander McKissick, her first officer, sounded worn as the heel on a pair of old boots.

  “The last time I checked, you had a null psychic rating. Have you planted some surveillance cams in here?”

  “Call it an educated guess. We’ve been on this mission, what, eighteen months? You’ve had that thing replaced three times.”

  “That’s fair. What do you have for me?”

  “Doctor Rejick sent a final casualty list.”

  “Go ahead,” she said, voice steady, though the skin at the nape of her neck prickled with anxiety. The skirmish had lasted longer than she’d wanted.

  I didn’t want it at all.

  “The Boudicca reported twenty wounded, mostly plasma burns from close-range weapons fire when the Vespertine tried to board her,” McKissick said. “Four are critical. One dead—their captain. We’ve got seven wounded, two are critical, but the Doc says they’ll pull through.”

  The first glimmer of relief broke through the wall of exhaustion. One loss hurt, but compared to Beatriz’s expectations, it was a miracle.

  “And Kimura? How’s he doing?”

  Ezume Kimura, a xenobiologist, was McKissick’s husband. He’d been one of those injured when the Epona took a nasty hit to her port side.

  “His leg’s broken, and he got a hell of a knock to the head, but he’ll be fine. Thanks for asking. Speaking of—”

  “Wait, let me guess,” she said, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I’m expected in Medical without delay.”

  Her wife, Dr. Velodona Rejick, was Chief of Medical Services. She would want to lay eyes on Beatriz after the battle. Reassure herself that she was safe. They both needed the affirmation after violent encounters.

  McKissick chuckled. “Now who’s spying?”

  “Point taken.”

  Simmering arousal low in the cradle of her hips warmed her, yet she shivered like cold fingers were caressing her spine. Accepting help was hard for her. So was letting go of the personal discipline cultivated during her time as captain. Submitting to her lover’s will was a surefire way to set duty aside. But it didn’t stop her from bucking beneath another’s yolk.

  It was no surprise Velodona knew Beatriz required a break from the overwhelming burden of command. They had been together for a decade, and the Doc’s people, the Ax’Il, were both empathic and telepathic. The abilities made her an excellent doctor and an incomparable lover. There were times when she understood Beatriz better than Beatriz understood herself.

  “I expect I’ll be out of pocket for about two hours while she checks me over.” Pausing, she reconsidered with her next breath. You’re not a kid anymore; you can wait to see her while he checks on Kimura. “I’m glad Ezume is all right. You sure you don’t want me to tell Doc R. to cool her jets so you can visit him?” she added.

  “You go. He’s zonked on pain meds. He wouldn’t even know I’m there. Gamma shift is coming on in thirty minutes, anyway. All we’ve got scheduled is cleanup and repairs until we hit Ordillis Station.”

  “Thanks, Commander. Salgado out,” she said, wincing when she pressed the comm button.

  The hush of the medical bay always struck Beatriz like the silence most people attributed to the ocean’s depths—a fiction invented to mask the violence hidden in the stillness. The sea had currents swift enough to snatch a person away in seconds. Pressure on the ocean floor was so intense it could crush a human skull.

  Med Bay is like that, Beatriz thought as the doors whisked open. Calm and pristine until your eye catches a glimpse of the suffering.

  “If you can’t get that maudlin shit under control, I’m going to confine you to quarters,” Velodona said.

  Beatriz jumped. She hadn’t noticed her wife stepping out of the last exam room in the row.

  The doctor continued, “We can’t have you m
oping about the ship like some hell-bound sailor.”

  You’re a pain in the ass, Beatriz thought to her partner.

  “At least I’m not polluting the corridors with gloom.” Despite the joke, the doctor’s voice was tender. The Vespertine’s brutal attack on the Boudicca shook everyone on board. The teasing was her way of telling Beatriz she was unharmed.

  “It might surprise you, but some of the crew find comfort in their captain displaying an appropriate level of gravitas,” Beatriz said.

  “They don’t share a bed with you. I do.”

  Velodona laid a warm, broad palm on her shoulder. She lowered her voice before continuing, “I sensed your need the moment the danger passed. Come with me. I’ll take care of you.”

  The command went straight to her spine and Beatriz mustered the strength to remain on her feet. The tickle of Velodona’s breath against her ear reminded her of the night before. They’d fucked like their bodies had been immersed in honey. Each movement was deliberate, each breath meant to be shared. Velodona had wrapped Beatriz in her limbs and whispered filthy thoughts as she’d thrust inside her until they were both senseless.

  Differences in their bodies never hindered their lovemaking. The Ax’Il’s features resembled humans from the waist up, but the similarities ended at the hips. Water covered their planet. Instead of legs, the Ax’Il had evolved with eight tentacles. Beyond their ability to swim at incredible speeds, they had also adapted to other terrain in the years since they had ventured into space. Their skin was dark as obsidian, their eyes a hypnotic violet. Strong emotions enriched their hue. Velodona’s eyes were currently the same shade as ripe blackberries.

  Beatriz leveled her shoulders and pointed to the row of glass-walled exam rooms. “Where do you want me?”

  “Follow,” Velodona said, choosing the room closest to where they stood.

  Beatriz nodded. She knew that the walls became opaque and soundproof at Velodona’s command. No one would see or hear what happened inside. But the power Velodona wielded, the ability to expose Beatriz’s submission, was thrilling.

  Her mind stilled as lust coalesced in her core. She would be wet before they began, her body craving the freedom Velodona’s dominance created.

  “Full privacy on, exam one,” Velodona said after they were both inside. The glass on the walls became frosted, then darkened to an opaque gray.

  The room was utilitarian, sterile, with just a gurney, a chair, and a med-supply cart. Everything else the staff needed could be made by the matter-configuration unit on the wall.

  Velodona shed the tunic covering her upper body and laid it over the back of the chair. A plum flush radiated outward from the six nipples on her smooth chest. When they’d first become lovers, Beatriz had lost herself, suckling each bud and tugging on the titanium hoops piercing each nub.

  “Strip,” Velodona commanded once she’d settled in the chair. Her tentacles waved in a serpentine motion. The movement belied the anticipation beneath her unruffled demeanor.

  Beatriz didn’t need a psychic rating to know she was wanted. Body alight, she yearned for the glide of her lover’s skin against hers.

  “You’re fucking beautiful,” Beatriz said, peeling off her captain’s jacket. Shedding the visible trappings of her command lightened her mind and heart.

  “Thank you. But I don’t recall asking for your opinion, did I?” Velodona’s voice lacked the teasing cadence from earlier.

  “No, you didn’t.” She blushed, embarrassed by the way squirming excitement accompanied any correction.

  “Well spotted. When do you speak?”

  “When you ask a question.”

  “Good. Now tell me what you say if you need me to slow down or stop.”

  A surge of arousal swelled within her, and she felt the wetness on her outer lips. The ritual preceding their play was the same each time. Beatriz associated repeating her safewords with deliverance and fulfillment.

  “Suas to keep going. Lenta to slow down. Pare to stop.” She shuffled out of her trousers, quick to shake them off her feet. The combination of desire and haste caught her off balance, and she tumbled to the floor. Her hip smarted from its collision with the deck plating.

  The doctor’s brows knit with concern. “Please tell me you didn’t break anything.”

  “I’m okay.” Beatriz shook her head, giggling. “So, that happened.”

  “It did.” The doctor’s laugh was resonant, joyous. It reminded Beatriz of the trilling guitars she’d heard when she visited the New Azores colony on Carentina Major.

  Her mother’s family had sprouted from the archipelago of volcanic islands off the coast of Portugal back on Earth. But that was five hundred years ago before the oceans had risen, drowning the Azores and their crag-mouthed calderas. Beatriz imagined it was the spirit of people who had drawn sustenance from rocky soil and tumultuous seas that propelled her into the blackness of space.

  Velodona rose, her movements as graceful as an open flame. She offered Beatriz a hand. “Up you get. It’s fascinating,” she said, flicking Beatriz’s nose. “You’re a master strategist. A fierce warrior. And yet you can’t get your pants off without catastrophe.”

  Beatriz bit her lip, holding her retort back. She hadn’t been given permission to speak.

  “There’s my beautiful, obedient pet,” Velodona crooned, brushing Beatriz’s curls behind her ear. “Now be still.”

  A tentacle slid up the back of Beatriz’s thigh, stopping to brush circles over her buttocks. It dipped into the crease, tickling the puckered furl, before slipping lower, parting the folds of her vulva.

  Groaning, Beatriz ground down on the soft point of flesh stroking her, heedless of the growl rumbling in her lover’s throat.

  Velodona’s hand shot out, and a stinging warmth flared in Beatriz’s cheek.

  “Greedy thing,” Velodona said. “Look at you, taking something from me without bothering to ask first.”

  Beatriz was left cold when the pressure disappeared. She was bereft, naked, and ashamed of the transgression, but schooled enough to stay quiet till she was told to speak. Velodona lifted her chin, bringing them eye to eye.

  “Pet, tell me what you did wrong.”

  “I was selfish. I took pleasure without asking.” She tried to not fidget, wanting to cover herself, lick the wetness of her cunt from the tips of her lover’s tentacles, be forgiven. The snarled threads of guilt and passion were pulled too taut to untangle.

  “And who does that pleasure belong to?”

  “You,” Beatriz said, contrite. Remaining still was a struggle. She wanted to revel in the slickness of Velodona’s kisses, feel the thrust of a tentacle in her pussy, her mouth, her ass.

  Disassemble me, piece by piece, and fill me. I want to be nothing but a creature of sensation. A thing made from your touch, Beatriz thought.

  The yearning for absolution was ferocious and all-encompassing, gathering in Beatriz like a hurricane over the open sea. It weighed on her conscience, regardless of the justification.

  “On the bed,” Velodona ordered, tone stern. “On your back.”

  Compassion and care would come later.

  Beatriz scrambled onto the bed, crisp sheets rasping against her overheated skin. She curled her hands over the edges of the mattress. Velodona smirked. It was a sharp expression, pleased, but the black of her skin was shot through with threads of icy silver denoting a thread of unabashed cruelty in her demeanor.

  Beatriz bit her lip to keep herself from begging to be used.

  “We’re going with restraints today. I’d wanted to be soft with you, love you with gentle touches, but you need a harder hand. Tell me what you are?”

  “I’m a greedy thing.” The words burned in Beatriz’s throat, and her eyes stung with tears, yet the well of her sex fluttered, desperate to be filled.

  The restraints on the bed were padded with a material designed to not chafe. Her wrists and ankles were tethered to the edges of the bed, spreading Beatriz open. A final rest
raint looped over her stomach, binding her to the bed, and prevented her from arching into her lover’s touch.

  Climbing onto the bed, Velodona wrapped four of her tentacles around Beatriz’s legs and arms, adding another layer of restraint. Immobility was a profound relief, Beatriz keened.

  She peered down the length of Velodona’s body, gazing at the center of her body where her tentacles met and a fleshy beak jutted out. It was erect, like a stiff cock, but not as rigid. The shaft was more akin to a tentacle with an aperture at the tip that opened and closed like a small mouth.

  Velodona reached down and took herself in hand. “You want this, don’t you?”

  Beatriz moaned. The small cups on the underside of Velodona’s tentacles gripped her, rippling across the length of her arms and legs.

  “I do. Please,” Beatriz cried out, her body fighting against the bonds. The touch wasn’t enough. The words more, more, more beat at the backs of her teeth. “Please, I need to be full. I’m sorry I was selfish.”

  “Settle, pet,” Velodona said, tightening her grip on Beatriz’s limbs. “Check in with me. Do you want me to keep going?”

  “Suas. Yes.” Just saying it aloud calmed the anxiety in her blood.

  “Say ‘You’ll give me what I need.’”

  “You’ll give me what I need.”

  “Again,” Velodona said, voice trembling.

  “You’ll give me what I need.” Beatriz licked her lips, before throwing all of her want into one final plea. “Please, I’ll be so good for you.”

  “You will, won’t you?” Velodona lowered her body, the tip of the cock-like tentacle at her center caressing Beatriz’s clit. The tiny lips at its tip suckled while the shaft quivered against her opening.

  Velodona’s natural lubrication added to Beatriz’s own wetness. Their combined slickness dripped down the crease of her ass.

  Quaking, a torrent of heat swept through Beatriz as the walls of her pussy tensed. All other thoughts disappeared, her vision narrowing to Velodona’s face.

  The rest of the universe disappeared. Even Beatriz’s sense of self fell in the face of Velodona’s mastery. Gone was the fear of her ruthlessness and her willingness to do anything in defense of her ship and those who served with her.