Best Bondage Erotica 2014 by Rachel Kramer Bussel

warning voice spoke up in the back of my head. I’ddecided long ago not to play with Alicia, pretty as she was. I liked being her friend, and I honestly didn’t know how well I’d handle her ego challenges myself.
    I told that warning voice to go to hell. The force of wicked-top inspiration had already begun to energize my body.
    I stood abruptly, my spine already making the tiny adjustments that take me from ordinary woman to scary black-leather-wearing domme. I nudged my rope bag with my boot and nodded toward my hands. I wriggled my fingers.
    Alicia arched her eyebrow, her expression an elegant mix of invitation and skepticism. “Really.”
    Ten minutes later, we’d claimed a corner at the play party. With bundles of rope stacked up around me, I sat on Alicia’s chest and examined her body with an architectural eye. Where to start?
    Alicia squirmed under me. “Um, Kristi?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œYou know I’m going to do the same thing I always do, right? I’m not going easy on you.”
    â€œI don’t want you to go easy on me.” I cracked my knuckles.
    Her face screwed up into a miserable expression. “That’s what people always say.”
    â€œHoney, I really know you. I know what you’re capable of. I wouldn’t be doing this if I hadn’t accepted the possibility that you’ll embarrass me by making it look like I didn’t even remember to use knots.” That wasn’t strictly true. I had no intention of being embarrassed. I tried not to make the obvious comparisons to Alicia’s macho boyfriends.
    She relaxed only slightly. “Are you sure? I don’t mean to be insulting, but you’re not exactly...”
    I let her feel a little more of my weight. “Give it to me, Alicia. I promise I’m good for it.”
    â€œOkay...” She still sounded doubtful. I reached for the fifty-foot length of hemp I like to use to lay my foundation.
    I never got to it, because she slid out from under my legs in one smooth, muscular surge. I didn’t hesitate. No need to find out how far she could and would run. Before she could go anywhere, I lunged at her football-player style, taking her down with a shoulder to her thigh.
    She grunted, but rolled through the fall with practiced grace. I reached under her body and grabbed the back of her bra. It wasn’t a chest harness, but it would do for a few seconds.
    She bared her teeth and made it difficult for me, her body whipping and rolling from side to side. I threw myself across her, using my size against her as much as I could. I wouldn’t have put it past her to bite, so I shifted my grip from her bra strap to her hair, snatching a fistful close to the scalp and keeping her head close to the floor and away from me.
    I needed to get rope on her quickly, before she got the chance to demonstrate her superior martial arts skills. With no time to plan or select the perfect length of rope, I reached out blindly for the closest available. It turned out to be a thin silver nylon fifteen, which I normally used to add a metallic sheen to decorative chest harnesses.
    Alicia thrashed like a demon beneath me. I couldn’t afford to reject that rope and look for another one. The jiujitsu instructor who taught us both always says that pressure makes a person’s purest martial arts come out, the moves that have become part of her being. I trusted that adage and allowed my hands to move faster than my brain. In seconds, I secured a passable single-column tie to Alicia’s wrist. To give her something to keep her busy, I tacked it to her ankle.
    I had no illusions—I knew she’d be out of it in seconds. Still, using clean, simple ties, I might stay just ahead of her,enough to avoid having to wrestle her and lose.
    I kept going, barely looking at the ropes I grabbed. I used only the most basic knots, the ones that had truly become second nature. I manhandled Alicia,