by Alison Tyler
At last her body pauses for a frozen, urgent thrust and we all feel her vibrating shudder through the tensile connection I hold. His smile widens at her guttural, primal sounds as she peaks, and he shakes me slightly, with the sure, delicate touch of a master. The slight motion sends subtle movement through me, each slight tremor against her clit helping her ride one ecstatic wave after another.
Finally she lolls back, body slack in my soft lengths. Finally I feel his grip loosen. I am stretched, loose, but still filled with the electric sex that seems to glow from her. He unwinds me slowly from her skin, gently from between her tender lips, still slick with her spent need. Again I stroke her body as he draws me across and through each twist.
Her muscles flex tentatively against unwelcome release. I have left my mark, twining soft red patterns here and there where our connection was strongest, dimpling her skin with the witness of our shared strength and need. She makes a soft sound of regret as I am finally lifted from her shoulders, but I know our separation will be short. He winds me neat and firm before pressing me gently against her heart, and I feel it quicken with surprise and delight. She did not know, as I did, that we were bound the moment I touched between her legs. The realization brings a delighted smile to us both.
I know that long after he is gone she will take me to her bed and draw me tight across her skin again. I wonder if it will be her hand that pulls me, or his, or another’s. One thing I know: she and I have lengths of pleasure and knots of connection yet to explore.
They hug, holding me tight between their bodies. I feel their hearts pound against each other through my twists and coils. Connected, we three are one in this exquisite moment, unique, ephemeral, beautiful.
I am the rope that binds.
DISCOVERING HER WRISTS, BOUND
Saskia Walker
Carrie heard the front door click open then shut, and paused, hands deep in the washing-up bowl. She’d been listening out, waiting for Mike to arrive. Before she had a chance to move he strode into the kitchen and pounced, closing in behind her and pressing her hard against the edge of the sink.
“Well hello to you too.” She chuckled when he nuzzled her neck and kissed her behind her ear.
“Got you trapped. No escape now.” He cupped her breasts from behind.
Trapped with Mike. Bliss. They’d only been living together for two months and were still learning their way. Carrie couldn’t have been happier to hear the possessive, lusty tone in his comment. She savored the feel of him, so hard and masculine at her back. While he touched and caressed her she stared down at the gardens below their first-floor apartment and then across to the houses opposite, but it soon became a blur, because he was manhandling her breasts, squeezing them and massaging them through her shirt. Her flesh responded instantly, sensation needling into her nipples and tugging at her very center. She gripped the edge of the sink with her gloved hands.
He liked to do this, to explore her body from behind, but he hadn’t done it like this before, not here, not right at the window. Nevertheless, the situation made her hot, and there was something about him, an edge of power that made her feel as if she might waver on her feet if he stepped away.
“Mike, someone might see.”
He growled low under his breath and ducked his head to kiss the side of her neck. When he lifted his head she glanced over her shoulder. Was that a twinkle in his eyes?
“So, was it a good day?” He’d had an important meeting, but she didn’t want to make a big deal of it.
“Even better now.”
She smiled to herself. “You’re going to play hard to get, huh?”
That probably indicated the meeting had gone well, but she couldn’t be sure.
He ignored her question. Instead he nodded his head at the sink. “I thought we were going out to eat, no matter what? You’re not cooking are you?”
“I was just keeping busy.”
“Turn around, let me look at you.”
Carrie did so, removing her sudsy rubber gloves, tugging them off slowly and casting them aside as she turned.
“The way you do that,” he commented, and shook his head, “I’ve never met a woman who can make taking off household gloves look quite so much like a striptease.”
She laughed softly. “So that’s why you wanted me.”
“One of many reasons.”
It never got old, hearing that. His gaze covered her, slowly, approvingly.
She simmered. Reaching for his tie, she undid it and slid it back and forth under his collar as she looked up at him. He made her want to dance, and she moved her hips, holding his gaze while she did so. “What do I have to do to find out what happened in the meeting today, tie you up and torture you?”
The look in his eyes became brooding. He reached for her hands, grasping her around both wrists, as if to still her. There was a distinct set to his mouth, sensual, almost a pout. He was horny.
“If anyone is going to be doing any tying up around here it’ll be me,” he responded without hesitation. Something in his expression changed.
The way he held her wrists so tightly surprised her.
Why did I say that, about tying him up? It had just come out, spur of the moment.
She glanced down at his strong hands wrapped around her slender wrists. It stimulated something in her, something deeper than desire. A need she had not yet discovered.
“Now why would you want to tie me up?” She was eager to know where this might go.
“Oh, I can think of a dozen good reasons.”
Her heartbeat had become erratic. She’d never seen him quite like this before. He was always passionate, often impetuous, but this…this edgy look in his eyes, and the way he held her so tightly. It made her want to know more, like how deeply it ran. “Give me one reason, make it a good one.”
“Because I’d like to have you thoroughly under my control, so I could touch you and taste you and have my way with you while you have absolutely no say in the matter.” He tempered the comment by giving her a suggestive smile.
She swallowed. “I hadn’t realized you were into…that.”
Mike laughed softly. “I’m not.” There was that wicked glint in his eye again. He shrugged. “Maybe I am. I certainly like the idea of having you at my mercy.”
The teasing, jokey mood had altered because the tension between them heightened by the moment. He still had ahold of her wrists and his expensive silk tie was crushed in her fisted hand. She stared at him, aware that her face had flushed and he’d be able to tell just how aroused she was.
“Want to give it a try?” His voice was so low as he asked the question it was a whisper, a suggestive whisper, and he was so close to her that she felt his breath warm on her face. What would it be like, letting him have his way as he so casually put it? It unnerved her, but it also excited her immensely.
He could tell—the recognition was there in his eyes. She nodded.
He tugged the tie from her hand and looped it around her wrists, tying them together.
Carrie stared down at her wrists, bound.
The significance of it hit her, steeping her in arousal. Her wrists had never been bound together before, but she’d agreed to it and she liked the way it made her feel. It meant she was his, completely.
When she met his gaze, he nodded, then tugged on the loose end of the tie, drawing her along with him as he moved to leave the kitchen.
“Mike,” she whispered as she followed, shocked that he was leading her that way and yet breathless with arousal because he was. It felt wrong, like she was a naughty pet that had to be restrained, but it was such a turn-on.
He didn’t pause. Instead he led her to the bedroom where he encouraged her to stand by the bed. For some reason she found it hard to meet his gaze.
He faced her. “Lift your chin. Look at me.”
It was a command, and it made her breath catch in her throat. Arousal pulled heavily inside her, building heat between her thighs. Tension filled the roo
m, clinging around them like static. She felt his scrutiny, his lust, and it set loose a demanding ache at her core. Lifting her eyelids, she looked at him.
When he took action and undid the buttons on her shirt, Carrie found it hard to breathe. He pulled the shirt open, then eased the cups of her bra down, lifting her breasts up so that they rested on the cups. He had her on display.
“That’s better,” he commented, then reached for the hem of her tight-fitting skirt. Tugging it up around her hips, he pulled her panties down to her ankles, then encouraged her to step out of them. Once she had, he nodded at the bed.
Moving awkwardly Carrie sat, then lay back. As soon as she did, Mike lifted her wrists and looped the tie though the wooden struts on their headboard. He knotted it there, so that her arms were up over her head and her breasts were lewdly displayed.
Carrie swallowed down her nerves.
Mike moved to the end of the bed and folded his arms across his chest as he looked down at her.
“This is what you wanted,” she murmured, suddenly not sure. She felt so exposed with her breasts lolling, her skirt up and her pussy bared that way. More than that, the restraint forced her into a different mood. It made something give way inside her, and she rolled her head on the pillow, her pulse racing.
“It is now.”
She shot him a querying look. “Why?”
“You’re offering yourself to me.”
“I always offer myself to you.”
“Yes, but this is different.”
Carrie nodded. “It is.”
It was a statement of trust, handing the power over to him completely.
Mike knelt one knee on the bed and wrenched her legs apart, spread-eagling her, making her gasp. Before she had a chance to say anything, he put his hand between her legs, and she had to blink back the flash of sheer pleasure that shot through her groin when he stroked his fingers over her clit and down the groove of her pussy.
“I want to make you come.”
She whimpered.
“You want that too, don’t you?” While he spoke he stared down at her.
His gaze made her splayed pussy feel even more deliciously vulnerable and exposed. “Yes.”
He squeezed her clit, locking it between two fingers and rocking his hand.
She half sat, her wrists jolting against the headboard. She sank back, whimpering. As she did, she felt warm liquid run down between her buttocks.
“So wet,” he murmured and ducked down between her legs, his mouth closing over her clit.
Her back arched against the bed, the tension in her hips and shoulders intensifying. “Mike, please.”
“Okay. I know. Just a little longer. Let me adore you.”
Let me adore you. That made her melt. Physically, and emotionally.
He squeezed her clit again, his tongue moving from her entrance up to the tip where he swirled it, making her crazy.
“I need you inside me,” she cried out, “please.”
Breathing over her sensitive flesh, he sighed.
That made it worse. “Mike…?”
He moved his hands away from her pussy. “Are you begging?”
Carrie shook back her hair, relief hitting her when she saw the bulk of his erection inside his pants. “Yes, Mike, I’m begging you. Please, please fuck me.”
He stood up, a smile passing over his face, and went for his belt.
She watched as he undid his clothing and let each item fall to the floor. When his cock bounced free, slapping against his belly as he cast aside the last of his clothing, her sex clutched, longing to be filled by that glorious erection.
But he made her wait. Starting at her toes he kissed the length of her legs. As he closed in on her pussy she raised her hips, ready to receive him inside. But Mike shifted his attention and kissed her breasts, her breastbone, and then he pushed her skirt higher still so he could kiss her abdomen, right above her pussy where she ached for release.
Carrie writhed, her wrists automatically tugging against her tethers, her hands eager to caress him and encourage him closer. The fact that she couldn’t do that made her wilder still, more needy than she ever had been. And her clothing, barely undone and tangled, only added to the problem. It hampered her movement and emphasized her inability to control herself or her situation.
By the time he climbed over her and moved into position, her entire body had misted with damp heat and her breathing had become shallow and fast.
“This really suits you,” he commented.
In one knowing thrust he filled her.
The room spun, her eyes clamped shut and she heard her own wild cry as she came, suddenly, and spectacularly.
“Oh, yeah, that feels good, just like I knew it would.” Even as she moaned aloud in her climax and her core spasmed, he rode in and out, speeding all the while, taking her deeper still.
Mike urged her on, taking shallower thrusts as he readied to come, his body rubbing against her tender clit. She was lost to it, her sex clenching and unclenching, and as it did it set off another rolling wave of pleasure. She moaned, begged for mercy.
Still he pushed her on, his face against hers, his breath hot on her cheek. “I’m coming.”
One last thrust, deep and hard, and she focused long enough to hold him tight while his cock jerked and he doused her in his hot semen.
When he rolled free it took several minutes for her to muster the question she wanted to ask. “Was this you celebrating something?”
“Yes.” That was all he said at first. Eventually he lifted onto his elbow at her side and smiled down at her. “The meeting went well; I got the promotion.”
Pride blossomed in her chest. “That’s fabulous news. So… you wanted to celebrate by taking charge of me, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” he said as he ran his hands over her defenseless breasts, seemingly taking even more pleasure in the act than usual, because she couldn’t stop him.
“Are you going to want to celebrate this way every time you get good news?”
He ran his fingers over her bound wrists and she thought he was going to undo her. “No,” he responded.
That leveled her elation somewhat.
“More often than that,” he added, taking his hand away, leaving her tied.
She laughed, pleased. “You really did want to tie me up.”
“Yes, but you suggested it.”
“I did not!”
“Yes you did, you asked if you would have to tie me up to find out what happened at the meeting. You can’t expect to say something like that to a man and not have him ready to pounce. Like a red flag to a bull, my dear. So where did that come from, my little spitfire?”
“I have no idea.”
“So you accept full responsibility?”
“No!” Again she laughed. “It was your fault. You said you’d got me trapped at the sink. That must have triggered my comment.”
“Oh, I see, my fault.” His smile lingered.
When he began to move his hips again, and Carrie felt his erection growing, she lifted her brows and nodded up at her bound wrists. “I thought we were going out to eat, no matter what?”
“I’ll have something delivered, and I’ll feed you myself. You’re far too busy to go out.”
“Busy?”
“Yeah, you’re all tied up.”
“And you’re going to keep me this way?”
“For the time being, yes. Any objections?”
Carrie sighed with pleasure. “None at all.”
IN HER SIGHTS
Kiki DeLovely
I once watched an artist painting a portrait of his lover. Witnessed the lascivious nature of his brush dipping into the pigment, the amative blending of colors just so on the palette, before he ever touched tip to canvas. Working assiduously to infuse his lover’s very soul into the eyes; languidly lingering on the lips, introducing sex to the mouth. He studied his subject’s face so intently, so intimately, his lover shackled under the weight of his regard.
My clit skips a beat.
I can’t get past the way she’s caught me and holds me captive with that gaze—knowing and profoundly intense. She twists her wrist one last time and my cunt clamps down as I submit to the waves rippling, then ripping, through me. “Mmmmmmm… that’s my good girl.” And then she’s gone. Pulls out of me with not the slightest warning and I cry out, suck in and am left wanting. So painfully wanting. My shyness begging to break away and cast my eyes downward, to bring my hand to my face and deflect at least a small portion of it all. Me muero de la timidez—I might just be the first case known to womankind who succumbs to shyness. But just as this thought flashes hot across my flesh, her control seeps into my abyss and I’m hooked. Inescapably. Tethered up in her resolve.
This type of unrelenting attention would have once put me on edge. And not the sort of edge I usually enjoy. The past couple of decades (and the multitude of lovers therein) have reworked my self-view and these days mi panza gets as much love as my curvaceous hips—those that act as grand parentheses for such a gorgeously rounded belly. And if a hot butch wants more than—much more than—a handful of tetas tan grandes como las mías, she also gets the thighs that make the most amazing swooshing sound as they rub together when I make my way through a crowded shopping mall or dance into the deep blue of the night.
The intent behind that gaze of hers weighs heavily, and she knows it. I am all woman, una mujer de cierta edad, no less; and yet she can make me feel so young, the way I experience myself reflected in her sensualidad. She could certainly see it written all over me—ink rising from my pores and pooling into script, skirting its way across my skin, telling a story of the girl drowning in her eyes—it’s an easy read, altogether too lucid. Lux chooses this moment to remove her glasses and take a step back without a moment’s hesitation nor a second’s glance away.
