Bdsm Quotes

Michael looked embarrassed. “No, I don’t really… I mean in real life, I don’t do that. I read BDSM once in a while, but honestly, I prefer the sweeter romances.”“Sure. I believe you. Bondage Ben.”“Stop it.” Michael laughed.“Cracky McCracken.” James flicked an invisible whip.“I am not! I’m more like Nick Normal.”“Nipple Clamp Ned.”“Vince Vanilla.”James gave him a dubious look and snorted. “I doubt that very much.”Michael shrugged with an evil little smile. “Well, maybe not entirely vanilla.

This is about more." He arched, tilting a little. Billy set the weight swinging again. "Tell me what it's about." "Uh... It's... I... It's about everything. It's like you're inside me, like my bones.

It's been so long since I made love I can't even remember who gets tied up.

Some people - and a high percentage of submissives - wanted clear-cut rules. Preferred their duties laid out, like schedules and lists.

I was craving a chance at the lifelong fantasy, and I had that. That was a one-off thing. I was looking for an experience, Eric, not wanting to cultivate a habit.

I’ve succumbed to the absolute power of the man that pulls, culls, calls my unwitting submission. And I’ve embraced the power of my submission to draw him in further, to have him kneeling and worshiping what he’s conquered. I’ve known surrender and strength with him. True freedom. And a hell of a lot of orgasms.

It rubs against me, dipping between my hot lips and makes me whimper with yearning. You remove it dramatically and raise it up, out of my eye line, although I imagine that you are inspecting it.“Yes, definitely a slut, aren’t you?”“Yes, sir.” I reply instantly. My voice sounds needy – already.

He was an animal. He'd drawn blood and now he needed to fuck, to cover her with his scent, to tell the world, She is mine. Stay away.

I want to discover every hidden secret of your body and a thousand ways to make you scream my name.

It was good for her though, to submit to things that weren’t for her pleasure, but his.

so many emotions cascaded through me.I was embarrassed. I was humiliated. I was confused. I was conflicted. I was enraptured. I was hurt. I was traumatised. I was in heat. I was spellbound.I was so many things that I didn't know that the hell I was anymore!"homecoming!

.. any Dom who doesn't promote open communication is not developing a healthy relationship.

The sound of his rough voice was…comforting, like there was safety wherever he was. Well, some safety…he certainly had an awful lot of sneaky tricks up his sleeve.

(Erin) 'What do you think gave you this interest?' Yep. There it was. 'I’m not saying anything bad about it. I just wonder what makes one person want to hit another. Did I not give you enough contact when you were young? Should I have breast-fed?'(Derek)'I’m pretty sure it started when you left me in the bread aisle when I was two. I started thinking the only way to get people to notice me was to tie them up and whip them.

We’re wasting time here. I’ve got a sweet ass to paddle. Some legs to spread…

I've been taking it easy on you, kid, can tell you're having fun. But it's all sensation to you so far. I haven't pushed you, taken you out of yourself, looked for that place inside where you give yourself to your top. Sometimes pleasure can take a bottom there, but more often it's pain that does.

Pet, so far we've been playing at this. I'm going to take you a bit further. A play spanking can be erotic but I am going to take you flying, so high you'll never have felt anything like it." He paused and strolled around the kneeling boy. Damian pulled his hands together behind his back and linked the D rings on the cuffs. "Feel how helpless you are, on your knees to me, waiting for me to decide what to do to you?

I had no idea it would be like this. That having someone on their knees for you would make you so vulnerable.

Just because everyone CAN publish a book these days, doesn't mean everyone SHOULD. The world doesn't need 1000 knock-offs of 50 Shades of Grey. I'm not so sure the world even needed ONE 50 Shades of Grey.

In the past I was a vicious hunter. I would stalk my prey with pinpoint accuracy. Ever since Monica came into my life I’ve abstained from the game. It almost feels strange to stand here and look to the crowd knowing I could pick one and f*ck them into oblivion. I won’t though. I may love her, but that isn’t the reason. If I were to pick someone for the sake of revenge sex then I’m giving control to Monica and Dalton for betraying me. I’m strong enough to wait. A good hunter is always patient and never stalks in anger.''I always crack it until Tobias stops flinching at the sound. It’s never the same amount of times. I don’t want it to become obvious so I always do it a few more times to create a sense of surprise.I coil up the leather and with the flick of my wrist I set a perfect line against Monica’s back. She yelps in pain and surprise, and Tobias joins her. He thought he’d get the first blow.I breathe through the pounding in my cock. It beats in time with my rapidly beating heart.I flick my wrist again taking Monica across the shoulder. I see Tobias tense as she screams. Mustn’t allow the slaves to think they are taking even turns. The blow’s shock is what makes my cock burn for release. I palm my balls as they tighten, threatening to shoot my release up the stock of my dick. I inhale through my nose and breathe out my mouth until I regain my control.I flick my wrist again and hit Monica across her thighs. She screams bloody murder at the ceiling and I smile to myself. It hurts like a bitch, but the marks will fade. I never break skin. This is my passion- my gift.

Gentleman,” I purr smoothly in greeting.Ezra and Cort circle me like sharks scenting blood. I know who they are, but not who is who since they’re wearing black hoods over their heads. It covers them to the shoulder and has holes for the eyes and mouth. Their clothing is identical Italian designer label suits. Even their shoes are the same. Their eyes glow like steel ball-bearings from the safety of their masks. The mouths are different- one serious, one snarky- both ruby-red and kissable.While they circle Fate and me several times taking our measure, the other Master stands in a sphere of his own confidence. He’s older and I don’t mean just in age, but knowledge. Ezra and Cortez feel like babies compared to this man. I bet he’s who I really have to impress.I wait, always meeting their eyes when their path moves them back to my face. I don’t follow them with my gaze- I wait.“Hello,” the hood with the serious lips speaks in a smooth deep tone. I know it’s not his true voice, but the one Kris calls The Boss. His eyes are kind and assessing.No one pays Fate any mind as she cowers at my thigh. I hold their undivided attention. Curly-locks is quiet- watchful- a predator sighting its quarry. Snarky mouth is leering at my chest and I smirk. Caught ya, Cortez Abernathy.“I seem to be at a disadvantage conversing with you while you’re hooded. I can’t see you, but you can see me.” I try to get them to out themselves. It’s a longshot.“And who are you, Ma’am?” Ezra asks respectfully.“Please call me Queen.” I draw on all of my lessons from Hillbrook to pull me through this conversation. The power in the air is stifling. I wonder if it’s difficult for them to be in the same room without having a cage match for dominance. I feel like I’m on Animal Planet and the lions are circling.“Queen, indeed,” Cort says snidely under his breath and I wince. I turn my face from them in embarrassment.I should have gone with something less- less everything. I know I’m strong, but the word also emulates elegance and beauty. I’m neither. Have to say, tonight has sucked for my self-esteem. First, the dominant one overlooks me for Fate and now Cortez makes fun of me- lovely.“What did you say to upset her?” Ezra accuses Cortez.“Nothing,” Cort complains in confusion.“Please excuse my partner. Words are his profession and it seems they have failed him this evening. I will apologize for not sharing our names, but this gentleman is Dexter.” He gestures to the dominant man. I wait for him to shake my hand like a civilized person. He does not- he actually crosses his arms over his chest in disobedience. This shit is going to be a piece of cake.

I'd rather take you to my lair.

My eyes glue to him in fascination as he cleans his flogger. He’s shirtless since the room is above comfortable temperature. I watch as a drop of sweat creates a path down his back, gliding around all those perfect striated muscles. The drop disappears beneath his low-slung, leather pants. A shiver rocks my body at the thought of it sliding down the crack of his bitable ass.“Katya, snap your mouth shut, close the door, and have a seat,” Dexter commands and I listen.

I want to spank you, but also want to know you want it. I need to hear it sweetheart, tell me you deserve it…

Don’t tell me my writing is misogynistic or anti-feminist just because I or my heroines like to be controlled in the bedroom and find great satisfaction and freedom with it. That is the most anti-feminist statement I have ever heard. Feminism is all about letting women be who THEY want to be. Not how YOU want them to be...I am both a feminist AND a submissive in my sexual fantasies and reality. You are the one who is anti-feminist who tells me I can’t be.

I won’t share you, Dylan. I mean that. If you think for one second now that we’re married, you can try and pull some kind of shit over on me, you’d better think again. I can take whatever you can dish out when it comes to pain, embarrassment and humiliation, and whatever else you have going on in that wicked mind of yours, but I’ll be damned if I’ll share you with another woman. Or man.” What the fuck? I almost laugh at her, but she’s so serious she would probably slap the shit out of me. “Calm the hell down. I’m not trying to pull anything over on you, okay? And seriously, a man?” “Well, I don’t know. Maybe one of your secrets is that you like getting pegged in the ass or something.” This time I laugh out loud at her and she narrows her eyes at me. "Don’t ask me to peg you either, because it’s never going to happen.” I laugh even louder. Good God this woman is funny. “I promise you that I don’t want to be pegged, Isa.

He lashed the belt against my ass again, and I was starting to feel like I was some supernatural being that was more than he was. He was just human, but I felt like something from heaven, an angel from the stars, that had come down to grace him with my presence. How beautiful lust is, when it makes you feel this way. Have you felt this yourself, do you know what I mean?

A woman’s sex appeal has more to do with what other people think she has than what she actually has. It’s the relationship and reputation she has with herself that I find desirable.

That was some powerful shit. Like mind and pussy-numbing, fuckilepsy inducing, reproductive organ-exploding powerful. You really are some kind of flogger wielding sex God.

What kind of slut do you think I am?”Theo bumped his hips against hers. “This might not be the best moment to ask me that.

But, why? You punished me, okay? You've forbidden me to," I shudder, "cum when you know my little body can only take so much of holding it in. I have a nine-inch dick, Randy. That stuff needs to come out.

I was begging you not to get married and if you do manage to talk some poor woman into marrying you, please pull out,” Paul said in a slow, condescending manner, raising his eyebrows in hopes of clarifying. “Sterilization should be a legal requirement for pricks like you.

God,' he said, 'I have to have you.''Take me. Own me. Use me. Pick a verb. Just please.''Fuck you. I'm going to fuck you. That's my verb.

But, chiquita, you must understand that while you are here, I expect you to come to me and share your fears. Even if I am the one causing them.

I don’t think I like the idea that you just control me, but you get to do anything you like.”“Ah, but that’s because you don’t understand the power exchange. Note that I used the word exchange. Listen, there are as many different ways to practice BDSM as there are people who practice it. I like to play. I like to know that my lover will turn to me when she needs something. I’ll want to protect you. And I like to give you what you need. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel necessary.

Oh, was that what you meant? I figured you were speaking of your manner of whoring. I should have known you were wanting to fuck me too.

She looks me dead in the face and says, “The safe word is going to be ‘immigration,’ because you know I’ll stop it.

On many nights I have availed myself of these very gentlemen, in the adjoining room. Each time, I wondered if you might arrive and see me, as I took my pleasure, allowing their hands to explore my body. There is no part of me that has not been kissed and enjoyed. I opened myself in welcome, encouraging my suitors to bury themselves deep and hard, to obliterate all reserve and find the heart of me.”Mademoiselle Noire - The Gentlemen's Club

It was better with the subs than it was with the gold diggers or the hookers. These were real people, with real lives, real jobs, real hearts. It meant something when they submitted to my demands. It meant trust, and trust meant love. I got that--I mean, I understood that. And, oh, Lisa, how I needed that—but I didn’t know how to deal. I was too broken.

You are not allowed to get lost unless I want to lose you. You aren’t allowed to be found, unless it’s me doing the finding. And the only way you’re allowed to die is if I choose to kill you with my own hands. Your life doesn’t belong to you anymore, and if I have to murder you tonight and paint the snow with your blood to make you understand that, I will. You are mine, Kingsley. End of discussion.

What do you know about me, Isabeau?" He leaned forward, and I forced myself to stay still instead of shying away. He was so close that I could smell the subtle notes of his cologne: musk and wood with a hint of leather. What did he want me to say? That everyone said he was an ogre? Or that they all wanted to sleep with him anyway?"I...""Go on. You won't hurt my feelings." He was still smiling, slight dimples visible in both cheeks. The sight was destracting, to say the least."I know that you're the youngest CEO and partner in the company's history, and I know that you earned the spot by working your way up after graduate school instead of using your inheritance as a crutch.""Everyone knows that. What do you know about me? The real stuff. None of this press release bullshit."I looked down at my hands, anything not to have to look up at his face so close to me. "Um. People say... they say that you're scary. And that your assistants don't last long."He laughed, a deep, warm sound that seemed to fill up the office. I glanced up to see him smirking at me. I relaxed my grip on the desk a little. Maybe I wasn't being fired after all."What else do they say?"Oh, God. He can't possibly want me to tell him everything. Does he? The look on his face confirmed that he did. It was clear by the way he looked at me that I wasn't leaving this office until I gave him exactly what he wanted."They say. Um... They say that you're very, uh, good looking... and impossible to please.""Oh they do, do they?" He sat back, and tented his fingers beneath his chin. "Well, do you agree with them? Do you think I'm scary, handsome and woefully unsatisfied?"My mouth dropped open, and I quickly closed it with a snap. "Yes. I mean, no! I mean, I don't know..."He stood, then, and leaned in close, towering over me. "You were right the first time."Anxiety coursed through me, but I have to admit, being this close to him, smelling his scent and feeling the heat radiating off his body, it made me wonder what it would be like to be in his arms. To be his. To be owned by him...His face was almost touching mine when he whispered to me. "I am unsatisfied, Isabeau. I want you to be my new assistant. Will you do that for me? Will you be at my beck and call?"My breath left me as his words sunk in. When I finally regained it, I felt like I was trembling from head to toe. His beck and call."Wh-what about your old assistant?"Mr. Drake leaned back again and took my chin in his hand, forcing my eyes to his. "What about her? I want you."His touch on my skin was electric. Are we still talking about business? "Yes, Mr. Drake."His thumb stroked my cheek for the briefest of moments, and then he released me, breathless, and wondering what I'd just agreed to.

He was a predator - a big, scary, hot-looking predator.And I wanted to be his prey.

Put your hands up against the wall as well,” you snarl and your voice isso close now – I can feel your hot breath against my neck. The proximitymakes me feel even hornier.I comply immediately, feeling instantly more vulnerable this way andloving the increased jeopardy. I know you want me as much as I want you,but to prove the point, you push your frame up against me. Your body ishard and I feel your cock straining against my ass through your trousers.Automatically I arch my hips and grind myself against you. It’s a gamble Iam likely to be punished for, but the sensation is so good I am willing totake the risk.

If my Master is lost, I'll find him. I'll lead him back to himself, because to serve doesn't always mean to follow.

I reach forward for him, expecting to feel the hardness of his chest or at the very least one of his arms coming to halt my progress, but there is nothing. I expand my reach a little and then, feeling slightly spooked, I listen… Nothing. No breathing, no footsteps; nothing.

Master, don’t. Please.”“Please is a great word–and I intend to please. Me, for sure. Maybe even you.” Lindsey and deVries

I look at him ready to cry again. Not out of pain. Not out of need. But because his words rub that part of my soul that suffers, that wants to be explored like a virgin land that has remained intact for centuries and craves to be occupied, appreciated and transformed.

My plans didn't include spending my life enslaved as someone's secretary

Sometimes, I think our lifestyle has become the victim of a “World of Kinkcraft” gamer mentality, where people just want to download a cheat sheet or a step-by-step walk-through. Many newcomers yearn to "learn the rules" of the lifestyle as quickly as possible, so they can get right to "winning the game." These are relationships, people. Real BDSM relationships, involving real people with real feelings, living really complicated lives. If this was easy, everyone would be doing it. Stop looking for shortcuts and easy answers.

Put me down.”“Nope.” He held her snuggled to his bare chest, tipping her up so he could rub his cheek against hers. “I like carrying you.

If you agree to our arrangement, I control what you feel and how you feel it. Right now we're concentrating on your needs, but soon we'll be focusing in on mine. I have very specific needs. "I like to take things. I'm going to take you. Whenever, wherever and however I want. Does that excite you?"Aries Taylor to his heroine in Stare Me Down,

His voice goads me and then I register the perfect rhythm he is creating in my tightly wound body. One, two, and then three fingers fill me, his hand rocking flawlessly against my quivering clitoris as he fucks me. Slowly at first and then the tempo increases as Shaw builds the pace. Before I know it I am panting as the sensations consume me. Eyes shut tight, I feel myself grinding against what feels like the palm of his hand or maybe his wrist, loving the friction it creates as Shaw penetrates me over and over again.

Tell me you're not going to do anything stupid." "I'm not that kind of guy, Peter." "Not usually, no. But I've seen the look you've got in your eyes. A guy so consumed with his demons he'd throw himself on a min to escape it. Then they send the little polished medal home to the people who love him. You've got a lot of people who care about you, Ben. Don't do that to them. If you don't trust yourself tonight, then let me shadow you." Ben sighed, looked back out in the darkness. "Fine, but keep a distance. I don't want anyone to think we're dating." "No chance of that. I wouldn't be caught dead dating an ambulance chaser.

In the world of animals, pain serves an equivocal role. Parental nips and swipes are common tools in upbringing. And socially, pain is sometimes used to maintain hierarchies of dominance. But this animal use of pain seems somewhat restrained, at least in contrast with the human situation. Here the capacity for pain is often used to systematically exploit and oppress at intensities often far beyond those seen in the behaviour of our nearest primate relatives. At the same time, at least in western culture, pain is rarely used for pleasure. Is it little wonder that all pain is viewed as intrinsically evil? Or that the pain-pleasure of leatherspace has been labelled torture?

The pain of being treated like a mere object. And a sense that this pain would turn into pleasure.

Oh my God. Party punch. He’d brought a woman with the social age of twelve to the Citadel. He deserved everything he got.

Anything else you want to discuss before we begin?”“Who cuts your hair? You should run them through with their own thinning shears. You have a wonderful face, and so much wasted potential for—” He stepped forward and grabbed my ear. “Ow!

Her back bows over the kitchen island, our empty plates rattling with the thrust of my hand. Two orgasms later, she stumbles into the living room to work on her homework, argument forgotten.

Look at me, sugar.” She lifted her eyes, and he wiped away the tear that spilled over. “I could tell you what I do and don't do, but you wouldn't believe a word I said. So let's get this over with.

Some man would come to her room. Maybe she would hesitate, and he'd grab her, pin her to the mattress, force her to cooperate.