Best Bondage Erotica 2013 by Rachel Bussel Page B

anticipation and desire both. Bryn directs me to a changing area where we’ll check our coats and her duffel, but first she pulls out a slim collar I’m intimately acquainted with and slides it around my neck. There’s a shift that happens when she snaps it into place—in the energy between us and internally in me as well.
    â€œOkay?” she asks, looking deep into my eyes. I nod my head and offer a small smile.
    â€œThat’s my girl.” She kisses my lips gently.
    â€œNow,” she says more firmly, “take off the T-shirt.”
    I oblige, drawing it over my head in a single movement, and
handing it to her silently. My nipples immediately harden into tight nubs, despite the warmth of the room.
    â€œVery nice,” Bryn says, tracing the lines of the new harness with her fingertip. She cups my breasts in her palms, testing the weight of them, then tugs at the ring piercing one of my nipples, sending a current of electricity straight to my center and drawing a small gasp from me.
    â€œVery nice indeed,” she says.
    She reaches into her duffel again, this time producing a pair of leather restraints that she efficiently fastens about my wrists, joining the D-rings on each together with a sailor clip. Then, with another clip, she attaches my bound wrists to one of the rings on the body harness, just above my navel.
    â€œComfortable?” she asks. I can’t move my hands more than an inch or two in any direction, and I sink a little deeper into that space I love, where my world is only as big as Bryn allows, and I am snug and secure and, paradoxically, free.
    â€œWell?” Bryn prompts. I’m not in any discomfort, so I nod. “Good girl,” she says. She retrieves a final item from her bag, a short chain leash, which she affixes to the drop ring on the front of the collar.
    â€œNow,” she says, gripping my chin firmly and holding my gaze with utter seriousness, “the rules. You can look…but you can’t touch.” That much seems obvious, given my bound hands.
    â€œAlso, I haven’t changed my mind about playing in public, so if you try to punk your way into a spanking by behaving badly we’re out of here, understood?”
    I nod again. Bryn hasn’t told me I can’t speak, but the fact of the matter is, I can be a punk, and my mouth tends to get me into trouble more often than not, so silence seems a wise choice.
    â€œHowever,” she continues, letting go of my chin and trailing her hand down the side of my neck and across my chest, rolling a
pebble-hard nipple between her thumb and forefinger, “if you’re good, we’ll see about rewarding you properly after the ball.”
    Her words stoke the fire that’s been building in my nether regions, and when she kisses me soundly, sweeping her tongue deep into my mouth, I can’t help but moan and press myself against her. Bryn breaks the kiss after a moment or two and takes up the leash in her hand.
    â€œLet’s go then,” she says, and we head out into the crowd.
    As balls go, let me tell you—Cinderella’s got nothing on this. There’s more leather and skin on display than I’ve ever seen and an entire upper level kitted out with spanking benches, tables and in one corner a doctor’s exam bed with stirrups that’s being put to good use by a group of hot women in PVC nurse’s outfits and a boy who’s clearly got a medical fetish. Even the sofas and chairs, liberally dispersed throughout the space, are filled with subs who are bent over the knees of their Masters and Mistresses receiving paddlings and spankings, or seated at their feet worshipping their boots, or taking some water curled up in their arms in the aftermath of a play session.
    It’s a feast for the eyes, and I greedily drink it all in, though in truth it’s not the sight of a whip falling or the abundant naked flesh that arouses me, but the intimacy of