Best Bondage Erotica 2012 by Rachel Kramer Bussel

that—with such rough urgency. God, could she be any more cruel? Longing tastes crisp on my tongue and I
suck the disappointment like candy. I like it—this tease is a slow burn across my flesh.
    All over her fingers and inner thighs, her opalescent juices glisten. She doesn’t even bother to watch me. Both eyes are firmly shut in the simple act of pleasure. But I know it’s not that simple. As I squirm, my panties brush up against my damp, needy flesh. I move to slip them off and they fall to the antique hardwood floor like an afterthought.
    Wait. Marley’s hips thrust against the cool air that bites my skin. Wait. Her finger pumps inside her plump, ripe pussy. Wait. Want. Need. They all get a backseat to this show. I’m on display in the middle of the room. But this is just as much a performance for her as it is for me. With every frantic breath I can taste her sweet pussy and her manipulation makes loud sucking sounds as she moans. The only thing I can do is grip my fingers behind my back until they’re numb.
    Suddenly, she stares at me. As if I exist in my nudity with my love for her spread across my flesh like a canvas. Her fingers slide out of her pussy and she sucks them into her mouth, cleaning her digits one by one. Just because she’s stopped doesn’t mean there’s anything in it for me. When she crawls toward the edge of the bed time draws to a standstill. She’s bent to pick up the nylons from the floor and her breasts fall together, so full and perfect. I was jealous once. Until she showed me she didn’t need a handful of my flesh to have fun. That was a good night.
    â€œCome here.” Her voice is husky and low. No doubt about the seriousness of her command.
    She pats the side of the bed. A thrill of warmth presses tight against my chest when I move to the part of the bed where she wants me. No time to think before her nylons—silk no longer gentle like my lover’s fingers—slide over my wrist. There’s no stopping the hiss of pleasure that slips past my lips at this
exquisite, sensitive torture. Then my other wrist is in her grasp and to pull away would be like sin, unrepentable.
    â€œDon’t make a sound,” she advises me gently, and then attaches my bond to the thick iron bedpost specifically made for this type of thing. It’s been so long since I’ve been in a compromising position. At least it seems like forever. There’s nothing I like better than to be in her capable hands.
    Just because we’ve done this before doesn’t mean it’s been like this—facedown with my ass in the air. She slides a pillow under my hips and I’m excitingly exposed. Deep down, I’m ready. My bonds give me strength. Then her hands trace my barely there hips and hisses slip from my lips like I’m a cat. It’s a touch so light that my sex-starved cunt clenches deep inside and I groan. It’s not enough, it will never be enough.
    â€œShhh, you’re fine.”
    Sure, I’m fine. I take deep breaths.
    Only time will tell. Her kisses fall down my back like condensation on a glass of water and I don’t breathe, too worried she’ll stop. When her laughter trills against my cheek it breaks me into a million pieces. The sharp shush of cloth against my sensitive wrists almost makes me come, but she plans for it. Her fingernails dig into my ass to trip up pleasure with a sensation more primal. There’s no denying she’s embedded in my skin—both literally and figuratively—as I pull against my bonds.
    Regardless of the material, she ties good knots, which is part of the reason we fell in love. Perhaps the other part has something to do with stupidity more than anything else. But the sweet shift of her body between my legs reels me back out of my head. There’s no way to see from this angle. I yearn to tilt my head like an owl, if only for a fleeting glimpse.
    My eyes ache for the