Submission: Erotica for Women edited by Alex Algren
Eyes blindfolded. Mouth gagged. Hands chained to the headboard. You’re on display, ready for him—ready to be used. And the only sound in the room is your own breathing…until you hear him close the door behind you. Let these tales give you inspiration for the next time you find yourself in a tight spot.
This collection of stories featuring guys dominating their eager, submissive lovers is bound to fill your imagination with kinky playtime ideas!
Excerpt:
“I Breathe Your Name” By Tess Danesi
Despite the exhaust fan’s best efforts, it never keeps pace with Dar’s preferred scalding showers, and steam swirls around me when I enter. I close the door behind me and lean against it, watching Dar behind the wall of glass that separates the shower from the rest of the bathroom, being assaulted by the high pressure dual shower-heads positioned at each end of the shower. He doesn’t notice me, as he faces the back wall of the enclosure, allowing my gaze to fall to his muscular bottom. He scrubs himself as I silently watch. I’m filled with a mixture of admiration, thankfulness and lust as the muscles in his back ripple beneath his skin with each movement of his arms.
Despite my silence, something in the air must have changed, because he abruptly turns and sees me.
“Awake now, my lazy pet,” he says.
“Dar, you didn’t really want me to run with you. You know how frustrating it ends up for both of us.”
“Wouldn’t have asked you, Tess, if I didn’t want your company,” he replies, extending an arm from behind the wall of glass.
I walk toward him and he steps out of the water just far enough to grab me and pull me in.
“Dar, no, no, I’m in my robe,” I say, realizing by now it’s a moot point, it’s soaked, I’m soaked and I don’t care.
He lifts me and presses my back hard against the marble wall, still cool despite the heated water. My legs, crossed at the ankles, are tight around his waist. His hands are flat against the wall, my fingers interlaced together behind his neck. My chin falls into the hollow of his shoulder, my tongue trailing up to his ear, licking up the plump water droplets that define my path. I feel his cock stiffening against my pelvis and thoughts of him buried inside me make me nearly feral. I bite harder than I’d planned into his soft earlobe. He doesn’t jerk away; he doesn’t even move, but he whispers words that I barely have time to comprehend, “So you want to play rough, Tess?” before he’s pushed me tighter against the wall with his hips. One of his large hands guides his cock into my ready cunt. A deep sigh, of relief, of satisfaction, is the last sound I make before both his hands are on my neck.
Fixing me in his dark gaze, his deep voice speaks softly, nearly drowned out between the dual cascades of water and the pulse beating a steady rhythm in my ears, “You should know by now, Tess, I repay pain with pain.”
Even as his hands tighten on my throat, I can’t take my eyes off his. I’m not sure what I hope to see in his stare. Sometimes he can go so cold that even while his eyes are fixed on mine, I know he’s looking beyond me, looking somewhere into the darkness that resides so close to the edge of his surface civility. And sometimes, like now, I know he’s watching me intently to gauge my reaction, and, as my breathing gets more and more impaired as he cuts off my respiration, to determine when to stop.
My fingers unlace, slide free of one another, desperately clutching at his neck. Somewhere in my oxygen-depleted brain, I know I’ll have left deep crescent-shaped indentations and scratches where I claw at him. I’m terrified, and my mind won’t stop shouting, Not safe, this is not safe, you could die, he would never let you die, no, not safe, stop. But I have no breath, I can’t speak. My communication is limited to what he reads in my eyes and the pressure of my nails on his slick skin. When I have no air at all each thrust inside me feels even more intense. I know I could come; I feel the muscles in my cunt tightening around him, squeezing his erection as hard as my fingers dig into his neck. The lack of breath, the heat, his stare, the sensation of his cock hitting hard against my cervix, all these combined make me woozy, delirious. I can’t breathe. How long has it been? Not safe, not safe, not safe, my brain shrieks.
Then, his eyes drift from mine for a moment and his words enter my ear and echo in my head: “My breath will be the first air you taste, bitch. Come now; come when you feel my lips on yours. Come.”
Dark brown eyes focus on mine again as his lips meet mine. My muscles pulsate wildly around his cock, squeezing him with a pressure that surpasses his on my throat. My eyelids flutter, my head falling back against the slick marble wall. The tight grip he has on my neck relents and as I gasp for air, his breath, seeming to have more substance than is possible, enters my mouth and fills my lungs. The return of my air feels like a gift he’s bestowed upon me.
And with that returned air, my body goes limp, the combination of fear, stress and orgasm leaving me too spent to even cling to him any longer. He holds me up a few moments longer before allowing me to slide down the marble wall, making sure my legs will support me before releasing his hold. Against the wall, as I’ve been all along, I’m out of the direct spray from the shower-head, getting wet from the water that ricochets off Dar’s body. With my robe open and slipping off my shoulders, I step into the stream, letting the water rain hard upon my upturned face. My thin sodden robe feels so weighty now that I slide it off my shoulders. Transfixed for a moment, I watch the water swirling rapidly down the drain.
Looking up, I see him watching me. “Oh, god, Dar,” I whimper hoarsely, my throat still sore from the pressure.
“How appropriate that the first word you speak, spoken with my breath, should be god,” he says. His face gives away nothing, impassive and utterly calm, as if he’s entirely serious, but we both know that anytime he refers to himself as god, it will spur my irreverence.
“Yes, love, I exist solely because of you, for you,” I reply with an eye roll any teenage girl would envy.
He pins me with a cool, dark glare, one that makes me think perhaps I’ve overstepped my bounds, before his large hands meet my shoulders and push me back against the wall once more.
“I don’t think I can go through that again. Please, Dar, not right now,” I say, in hopes of earning his compassion.
His face, so stern a moment ago, is now smiling, “Oh, yes, pet,” he says, as he sinks to his knees, thick fingers opening my puffy folds, “I fully intend to take your breath away again.”
To read more of the sexy stories from Submission: Erotica for Women pop on over to Amazon to get yourself your own copy. Click on the book cover to get there.
The stories inside include:
Truss Issues – Lux Zakari
The Art of Darkness – Alison Tyler
Reclaiming – Teresa Noelle Roberts
I Breathe Your Name – Tess Danesi
The Weight – Rachel Kramer Bussel
A Necessary Correction – Debra Hyde
A graduate of Mills College with degrees in semiotics and mathematics, Alex Algren lives in Oakland, California. She is an avid reader who writes and edits to make more things to read. She is also the editor of Stories of O and Kinky!. Currently working on a novel about revenge, she also quilts and volunteers at her local animal shelter.