Surrender: Erotic Tales of Female Pleasure and Submission by Rachel Kramer Bussel, Donna George Storey

I’m crazed, lost in a mad eddy of sensation and emotion when spasms rock my body. My cunt tightens, strangling the heavy cock inside me, my ass pulsating hard around Dar’s cock. I hear a low groan, and the hand stiffens in my hair; Dar pulls out of my ass and roars as his come warms my back and flows, dripping in thick rivulets, to coat my ass. He continues holding me, helping to lift and lower me on the cock still enveloped inside me.
    “Come again,” he says in that voice that broaches no argument. “Come for me, slut. Come with that cock inside and my hands on your throat.”
    When he moves his large hands to my throat, I inhale deeply, tightening every muscle in my body in anticipation of losing my breath for seconds that I know from experience will feel like hours. But he doesn’t squeeze, he just presses firmly, allowing me my breath, though making me aware it’s in his power to take it away as he pleases. My orgasm builds rapidly with the combination of his words, his firm hands, and the stiff cock pounding me hard enough to bump my cervix. As I come again I feel the man underneath me slam into me one final time. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he exclaims. “Jesus Christ.” I’m sure the words were unintentional but impossible to be restrained. Just those five words confirm that it is Jack. And as soon as I think that, I begin to doubt myself. At least I think it’s him. I wonder if I’ll ever be sure.
    Dar lifts my limp body up and places me gently on the bed. I feel the bed shift as they both get up and then hushed whispers, words I can’t make out. Water starts running in the bathroom. I want to get up and take off this damn blindfold, but I don’t dare. I’m elated that Dar has made this fantasy come true for me. I know with his protectiveness and possessiveness, it couldn’t have been easy for him. I wonder what, if any, price I’ll have to pay. Then I laugh to myself, remembering one of Dar’s rules—there is always a price to pay.
    There are more whispers and finally the sound of the door opening and closing. The ghost has gone. I picture him vanishing, dissolving into mist before he even reaches the elevator, a phantom that will haunt the halls of this hotel forever. Dar tells me he’s going to dim the lights. Then he walks to the bed, pulls me up to my knees, and slides the blindfold off. Even though the room isn’t bright, I blink a few times as my eyes grow accustomed to sight. Then all I see are his deep brown eyes. I’m staring at him, trying to access his thoughts, his mood, when he smiles that devilish grin, halfway between a sneer and a smile. He’s standing in front of me, naked, still with the glow of sex evident in the sheen on his body, his cock semierect.
    “My trousers are on the chair. Go and bring me the belt from them, pet,” he says. He doesn’t take his eyes from mine until I walk past him on my way to do his bidding. “You can reimburse me with tears, Tess. I think that will do for now.”
    Ah , I think, a smile he can’t see stretching across my face as I feel my own excitement start to build again, that is a price I am more than willing to pay .

THE SUN IS AN ORDINARY STAR
     
    Shanna Germain
     
     
     
     
     
    H e was cleaning the bedroom for Stella’s return when he heard it. He’d been down on his haunches, swishing the broom beneath the bed’s dark corners, when something metallic clanked against the broom. He fished it out.
    There, among the dust bunnies and dirt, was Stella’s favorite set of nipple clamps, two silver clips connected by a thin chain. The metal was dusty and a few of Stella’s long hairs were wound in the chain. Still on his haunches, he picked the clamps up. They were lighter than he remembered, more fragile, the weight of them in his palm almost nothing.
    He opened one of the large clips, ran his finger across the row of teeth. Croc heads, Stella called them. Before everything, she’d call home from the office some days, leave a