BDSM Mega Boxed Set

by Anita Lawless, C. J. Sneere, Roxxy Meyer

  “Whatever, peanut gallery.” I waved him off, downed my sour-sweet drink, and slid off my stool. I went to gather empty glasses off tables while he gave last call.

  After I locked the door behind the last straggler, I said goodbye to Mike as he went out the back exit. Then I headed up the spiral staircase that led to my apartment above the bar.

  I froze when I noticed the bright red door leading into my home was already open an inch. A breath died in my throat and my heart thumped like a frightened rabbit’s foot.

  Who the hell is in my place?

  Mike was gone, and I thought I was completely alone. I searched the narrow hallway, looking for something I could use as a weapon, should the intruder attack me. Finding nothing, I ran back downstairs to the bar, moving as quietly as I could, and snatched up a pool cue. I wasn’t going down without a fight.

  Back at my apartment, I pushed the door open the rest of the way and slowly crept inside. My hand slid up the wall and I flipped the light switch up.

  No one. A cheery amber glow filled the spacious living / kitchen area, revealing it was unoccupied. I breathed a sigh of relief, lowered the hand that gripped the pool cue, and went back to lock my door tight.

  “Drop the weapon, Kat,” a soft, sexy voice said from behind me. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

  I whirled around to find Mike standing by my lumpy beige couch. I gasped, and fear crawled up the back of my neck. What the hell was he doing in here?

  “What the—” The pool cue clattered to the floor.

  He raised his hand and made a weird gesture, like he was conjuring something. Suddenly I felt different, more relaxed. It was as if he whispered into my mind: Trust me.

  “What’s going on?” My voice was slow and almost slurred. I wondered if I still had a slight buzz from the margarita.

  He moved closer, with such stealth it was almost spooky. “I don’t like to use glamour, but I don’t want to scare you.”

  My eyelids fluttered. My head felt thick. “Glamour?”

  He took my hands and looked deep into my eyes. “When you were a kid, did you ever hear fairy stories about Halflings? Kids that were part human, part fairy?”

  I nodded and wondered where this was going.

  “Well, Kat.” He sighed, then ran a hand over his short, caramel brown hair. “You and I are Halflings. You’re part succubus, and I’m part incubus.”

  I tried to back away from him, wanted to scream he was crazy, but my childhood came back to me—the draining of people’s energy—and it all made sense. Still, I shook my head. It was too unbelievable.

  “I know.” His voice was deep and grave as those steely eyes held mine. “I know about everything. Your childhood, the man whose heart stopped.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over my knuckles when I shuddered at his admission. “And I’m here to help you, and you can help me. What do you say, Kat?”

  “H-how can I help you?”

  His grin was wide and wolfish, full of teeth. “You can’t sleep. Neither can I, and we both know what’ll cure it. How about you and I play a little game tonight? Have a sleepover?”

  I took a deep breath, tried to stretch to my full five-foot-six, but I still felt short in comparison to his tall, broad self. Still, I mustered all my bravery and said, “Okay, let’s do this.”

  And, like that, the towering hunk of fine masculinity produced a box of condoms from behind his back, plus a length of gleaming, braided white rope.

  “Nylon,” he said, and winked. “It’s soft, silky. Less chafing.”

  As he turned me around and led me past the lumpy couch, I asked, “Exactly what’re you planning here?”

  One part of me was thrilled, but another part of me was tentative and ready to run from the room.

  And I had questions for him about this whole Halfling business, like why did he seem to have control over his powers when I did not?

  “I was raised in fairyland for the first half of my life,” he said, doing that mind reading thing again. “Now take your clothes off, sweetie.”

  I felt my eyes grow to the size of saucers. “Excuse me?”

  He waggled a finger and grinned. “You said you’d trust me.”

  “I didn’t say that. You whispered the command in my mind.” I stuck my tongue out at him, knowing I was acting like a petulant child.

  His face showed exasperation as he held out his hands and shook the coiled rope at me. “Do you want to sleep or not?”

  “Yes,” I hissed.

  “Fine. Naked and on your knees in ten minutes, or I’m leaving, and I won’t tell you how to control your powers.”

  “Asshole,” I grumbled low, hoping he didn’t hear.

  He sat me in my desk chair, a comfy but simple IKEA deal with padded seat and back. Then he untwined the rope slowly, watching me as his hands caressed the silky fibers before he wrapped one end around my ankle, and started binding me to the legs of the chair.

  “Did you know, rope art can actually help stimulate pressure points that will help you relax.” After he bound the other ankle, he stood and placed a gentle kiss against my ear. “Help ease that tension away.” His breath fanning my lobe made me shiver.

  The smooth, soft rope snaked around my calves, crisscrossed over my thighs, where he stopped to massage the sensitive flesh so close to my sex. Ever so lightly, he brushed one end of the braided coil over my tingling clitoris. My head fell back on my shoulders and I moaned. The stress of not sleeping, of life and its many quirks, flowed out of me with his deft touch.

  He positioned my hips and pelvis so my pussy was completely exposed to him. Once I was completely bound, it would be a cinch for him to manipulate me in any way he chose, and I knew I would be at his mercy. I swallowed and focused on the end goal: an excellent night’s sleep. And, really, what was I being so uptight about? Sure, Mike was a bit younger than I usually liked, but he wasn’t hard on the eyes, and we had a mutually beneficially arrangement going on here. I needed to let it go.

  He guided my hands behind the chair and bound my arms and wrists with an intricate pattern of knots. I tested the strength of my tethers just a bit, wiggling against the restraints. There was room to squirm, but I wouldn’t be getting out of this situation until he let me.

  “Whenever you want free, just say the word.” He did that peeking at my thoughts thing again, then lavished attention on my breasts, massaging medium-sized handfuls before he tweaked and teased my nipples erect.

  “Aren’t there safe words?” I managed between groans.

  “Yeah.” He paused long enough to lick and suck both nipples until I bucked in the chair. “Some people use green, yellow, and red for their safe words. Green for go at it, yellow for slow down, cowboy, and red for ease off, Marquis de Sade.”

  I chuckled. “Let’s go with that.”

  “Works for me.” Then he stood and backed away from me, sporting a cheeky grin as he surveyed his handiwork. “Now, I’ll just go grab some toys outta your bedroom.”

  “Wait,” I shouted at his retreating back, “how do you know about …? Oh, never mind.”

  He returned with his hands full. I had to wonder if there were toys in there I didn’t even own! Two long, blue fluffy feathers stuck out of the pile.

  I swallowed hard as he approached with said feathers and some other pleasure devices.

  He walked behind me, trailing one of the feathers across my shoulders as he did so. As he circled me, he drew the soft, downy plumage over my breasts, tickling my nipples ever so lightly, and they hardened from the brief contact. Then the fuzzy tip trailed down my stomach. He swirled circles around my belly button before he teased my clitoris and wet, spread labia.

  I moaned and strained in my bonds. The rope, I found, was not unpleasant. Quite the opposite. It seemed to massage my sore and knotted muscles with velvety fibers as the braided cords pressed into my flesh. He’d arranged the knots so, when I strained, two lengths threaded between my legs would press tight against my sex. The slightly abras
ive strokes over my swelling clit, along with his teasing, threatening to drive me mad.

  My eyes were closed when he dipped his head to kiss me, and I wasn’t expecting the tongue he jammed down my throat, but I wasn’t complaining either. He claimed my lips swiftly and kissed me breathless. I mewled into the forceful kiss, unable to help myself. I was overcome by the onslaught of passion. His tongue claimed mine with a hungry force that would not be denied. He nipped at my lips and our mouths fucked with a carnal fury, but he denied me the touch of his hands while he ravaged my mouth.

  That is, until he put the nipple clamps on.

  “I don’t own a pair of these!” I squawked in surprise.

  He fastened a silver clip to each throbbing nipple, and a slice of pleasure pain seared through the sensitive tips. A sparkling blue jewel accented each clip, and they winked at me as I writhed under this new stimuli assault.

  “You don’t own a pair.” He looked up at me and flashed a sly smile. “But I do.”

  A small chain attached the instrument of torture, and in the middle, another chain dangled down, ending in a third silvery clip. This one he attached to my clitoris, and the jolt from the sharp sting when he did so made me buck so hard I moved the chair a little.

  He stood and plucked at the chain that now ran in a taut line from between my breasts to my pussy. Sharp pain lanced through my sex and breasts, making me gasp, writhe, and moan loudly. He chuckled low and deep in his throat and appeared very satisfying with himself, and my display.

  Again he swirled a feather around my breasts, then tickled my nipples with the downy tip while he tugged on my chains. My nipples and clit now ached so strong the pulse beating through them felt like a pounding drum.

  He stripped down to a skimpy pair of underwear, and my eyes feasted on the specimen of man before me. His pecs were firm, buff, but not overboard bulging. His stomach was a flat, smooth plane, and his arms and legs were well muscled, strong. Truth be told, he did look a little like my heartthrob, Channing Tatum, but I’d never really realized this until now.

  A fairy lover who looked like a movie star. Maybe my luck was improving.

  Back on his knees, he pinched the clip around my clitoris, sending lightning sparks to my brain. Then he dipped his head and brushed his cool, pink tongue over the swollen bud. I came right then and there, shuddering wildly as I did so.

  “Starting to feel more relaxed, Ms. Kat?” he drawled. “You’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”

  He licked, nibbled, and tugged until I came a second time. Then he added another toy to our repertoire. It was my Zen vibrator, and, boy, did it ever help you reach nirvana. It had a special curve designed for g spot stimulation, and the smooth surface was like polished stone.

  He set the toy to a light buzz and pressed it against my inner thigh. My pussy, now extra sensitive from the orgasms, already started to throb again. First he swept the humming toy around my sex, moving it between my legs too, but denying my clitoris direct contact. The vibrations shivered through my skin, making my sex pulse with the growing need to come again.

  He turned it higher, and tugged on the chain connecting the clamps while he pressed the vibrator against my pubis bone. The assault of sensation made it feel like fireworks were going off inside my every cell. I shrieked loudly and thrashed in frustration within my tethers.

  Finally he slid the smooth head of the toy inside my seeping pussy. I let out a long, satisfied moan as my inner walls gripped it tight, trying to pull it deeper and milk it of all the pleasure it could give. But he teased me further, while clucking his tongue at me and scolding me for such outbursts. All the while, he wore a cheeky grin that said he enjoyed this as much as I did.

  He notched the vibrator’s speed up higher, and my pussy clamped down around it tighter. Pressure built deep inside of me, while soft, silk rope bit into my skin. I bucked and moaned and moved the chair in my frenzy to be free. The chains attaching the nipple and clit clamps strained tight, making the flesh pinched in their grip burn.

  Orgasm number three rocketed through me and I trembled and whimpered.

  Then he untied me, took me to bed, and gave me orgasm number four. And he was right. I slept like a baby.

  ***

  When I woke up, my clock read 2:30 pm and a large, muscular arm was thrown over my side. It’d been a long time since I woke up next to anyone, so I almost scrambled out of bed in surprise. Often, after I practically drained the life out of them with sex, guys tended to leave my place without so much as a goodbye thrown over their shoulder. After I stole their breath, quite literally, who could blame them?

  “Hello, sleepyhead.” Mike kissed my temple and hugged me tighter.

  “I can’t believe I snoozed half the day away,” I said, my voice still thick and groggy.

  “Well, I hate to rush you outta my arms, but could you be ready in, say, an hour?”

  I turned in his embrace and gave him a puzzled frown. “Why?”

  His grin was that of a wolf once more. “Because it’s time for your presentation at Fairy Court. You said you wanted to learn how to control your powers? Well, I’m going to introduce you to some friends who can help with that.”

  We dressed and were in my car within half an hour. I’m a minimal make up and beauty fussing kind of girl, so I rarely take more than forty-five minutes. I drove, because I’m anal about who drives my baby blue PT Cruiser. Mike gave directions and filled me in, as best he could, on what my presentation would entail.

  “So it’s sexual,” I said as I took a corner too wide. Some of his details made me steer weird. They expected me to do what?

  “Oh yeah,” he drawled, while wearing a sideways smile. “It’s very sexual. Fairy creatures are. You see, they get that sexuality is fluid. Fairies don’t get hung up on some of the shit we do. Like girls have to go with boys and all those antiquated notions. Fairies get that love is love, no matter how you slice it.”

  I nodded. “Sounds like a pretty cool clan to me. Easygoing.”

  He chuckled at this. “Oh, not all fairies are easygoing. Make no mistake. They can get nasty and fickle, just like humans can, but they tend to have less hang ups overall than homo sapiens.”

  About a hour later, after we drove down close to the wharf, Mike directed me through a tunnel that led to an urban area in shambles. The places were falling down all around us, and the buildings, mostly brick with tattered awnings, looked like they hadn’t seen paint or modernization since the 1980s. I frowned and thought what an odd setting for a regal fairy court. But, then, Mike had told me to expected the unexpected with fairy.

  “In this world, not everything is as it seems,” he told me as we exited the car and walked toward what looked like an old, abandoned pharmacy.

  Inside, I found an entirely different world, and the strange finery surrounding me made me gasp in awe and surprise.

  It was like a scene out of Pan’s Labyrinth, or some old paintings of fairy courts. The grey stone walls sparkled as we entered a narrow corridor that sloped steeply downward. The more we traveled, the more oddities I discovered, and the path was an erratic roller coaster of up and down. Hands, clad in silken gloves of red, or gold, or silver, reached out from these sparkling walls and caressed my skin. The floor under our feet appeared to boil and bubble, yet we stood on solid concrete. The lights that lit our way didn’t rest on the walls, but rather these tiny blue globes floated and hovered close by us, zipping around our heads, occasionally annoying me, then shooting far ahead.

  Mike laughed when I swatted at one like a fly. He said, “Be careful. Don’t piss them off. They’re small but they pack some bite.”

  Finally we stopped in front of a massive, rounded door made of gold and filled with an intricate scene someone had carved into the soft metal. The depiction was one of a satyr playing a flute while nymphs danced around a waterfall, but this morphed into other fairy scenes as we drew near. An incubus perched on a lovely woman’s chest. An undine lifted up out of the water to snatch at a p
assing traveler and take him down into a watery grave. An elusive sprite guided a lost child home.

  Mike wrapped one big hand around the onyx loop hanging in the center of one door and he knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.

  The door quietly swept open.

  The interior, and the beings gathered within, reminded me of a masquerade ball. The gold and red ballroom was packed with people in fine costumes made of silk, satin, finely spun thread. Their shoes and attire looked sixteenth century French. But Venetian masks hid their faces from view, as these partygoers passed by in swirling skirts and ruffs at the neck and wrists.

  When they started to part as they noticed us, I spotted the focal point of the room. Two tall, slender figures dressed in costume sat on vaulted thrones of crimson intertwined with gold. On the floor before them, masked partygoers performed carnal acts. And I had a feeling Mike and I would soon be joining the display.

  Mike led me up to the two thrones and said, “Here she is.”

  The masked being on the right, wearing a bouffant wig of silvery curls, nodded at me and him.

  “She wants to know how to control her power, wants to cure her insomnia” he continued. “Will you teach her?”

  The one on the left spoke in an eerie voice that sounded ancient. “Yes. Perform first.”

  “Just follow my lead,” Mike whispered in my ear as he took my hand.

  “Do I have much choice?” I muttered back.

  He chuckled, grinned a Cheshire grin. “Oh, sweetie, make no mistake—ultimately, you’re the one that’s in control of me.”

  I smiled at that. My heart did strange things I wasn’t sure I was comfy with, but I didn’t have time to think about it at the moment.

  Two wooden, antique bureaus were wheeled out by masked beings dressed like jesters. The doors in these bureaus were made of glass, and I could see practically everything inside. And the contents were all about play and pleasure. I spotted handcuffs, whips, paddles, and things I couldn’t readily identify. Jars of what looked like spices, and bottles that held lotions and potions, lined two shelves on both bureaus.