Bondage And Submission Stories Novels & Stories

Victoria Harrington's Point Of View. I disappeared for a moment and returned with a pair of Richard’s spare athletic shorts; crisp, expensive, and far too small for Jax’s powerful thighs. Instead of simply handing them to him, I slowly lowered myself to the floor right between his spread legs. I knelt obediently, sitting back on my heels in a clear, deliberate show of submission. My soaked, see-through bra pushed my heavy breasts forward, nipples still rock hard and fully visible. Water continued to drip down my body onto the marble floor as I looked up at him with hungry, submissive eyes.

She already knew that would be expected. Damon’s bedroom was even larger than hers. The massive king-sized bed dominated the room, covered in black silk sheets. Damon stood by the windows wearing only a pair of dark gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, revealing the deep V of his sculpted abs and the outline of his heavy cock. “Close the door,” he ordered. Ara obeyed. “So today’s scene,” he said, “is about a submissive woman meeting her ex one last time before her wedding. She knows it’s wrong. She knows she shouldn’t. But she can’t resist him. She lets him ruin her for her future husband. That’s the energy I want.”

What would it feel like to be locked in that cage, naked and waiting, with his footsteps approaching? I kept reading, heart racing faster. He had a list of rules for subs and that was to address him as Dom always, no touching yourself without permission, and daily tasks to prove devotion. One entry talked about a scene he'd done, binding a guy, edging him for hours with a vibrator on his cock, denying him release until he begged to be broken. Then, finally, fucking him rough while the viberator still buzzed inside him. Reading those words made me leak, my hole aching, empty and desperate. I wanted that denial, the slow build, the flood of release, the overwhelming sensation of being taken ha

And fuck, I know I’ve crossed a line. My belly flips as heat rushes through me. I slide my arms back, spine arching, and the moment feels different now, less flirting, more consequence. He binds my wrists, slow and precise. The rope snug, deliberate. Then he reaches around and clips the nipple clamps on, each one biting with cold precision. The chain between them dangles like a warning. “No more games,” he murmurs against my ear. “You asked for this. Now you take it.”

It dictated the use of rigid bondage ropes for aesthetic body ties, alongside specialized restraint sheets and straps to pin the partner firmly to the bed. Under the Sensory Deprivation category, the parchment listed blindfolds, ball gags, and leather muzzles designed to completely restrict speech and enforce the absolute dynamic of submission. In the Spanking and Sensation Play section, there was the explicit use of crops, whips, and heavy leather paddles to deliver strikes of varying, punishing intensities. Finally, under Control and Symbolism, the terms included collars, masks, and submissive hoods. I was utterly horrified. Every single fiber of my being screamed at me to slam the folder

she whispered. “But it’s more than that.” He continued working, his fingers deft and practiced. “Bondage is meditation for both of us. I have to focus completely on you—on your body, your breathing, your responses. You have to surrender completely to me—to the process, the patience, the vulnerability. It’s a form of intimacy that goes beyond sex.”

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains explicit erotic content, including BDSM elements (bondage, gagging, blindfolding), rough sex, oral sex, facials, and power imbalance dynamics. While consent is present, it explores themes of submission and vulnerability. Have fun lovliessss. CHAPTER ONE “What is it, Ronan? C’mon, you can tell me.”

I flipped to a random page and started to read. …She stood before me, trembling. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and anticipation. I told her to undress, slowly. I wanted to savor the unveiling of every inch of her soft, pale skin. When she was naked, I had her kneel. Her submission was a beautiful thing. A gift. I bound her wrists with the silk scarf, not because she needed to be restrained, but because she needed to feel owned. I ran the crop over her body, tracing the curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips. Her breath hitched every time the leather touched her skin. I asked her if she was mine to do with as I pleased. She whispered, ‘Yes, Sir.’ And tha

Spit dripped down his balls, and the fountain water splashed softly behind them, mixing with the filthy sounds of their mouths. “Enough,” Julian growled after a few minutes. His cock was rock-hard and shining, but he didn’t want to cum yet. “Stand up. I’m going to tie you up tonight. With your own rosaries.” Hannah’s eyes lit up, while Rebecca looked nervous but excited. They pulled the long strings of beads from around their necks. Julian took them and led the nuns to the stone fountain. The edge was wide and flat, perfect. He made Hannah bend over first, her big tits pressing against the cool stone. Then he tied her wrists together with her rosary and looped the beads around the iron ring

Humiliation burned hot, but I craved it, moaning vibrations around him. Pulling out, he hauled me up, bending me over the bed. “Spread wide.” I did, ass up. He fetched ropes from a drawer—proper bondage gear—and tied my ankles to the bedposts, immobilizing me. A blindfold followed, plunging me into darkness. Sensory deprivation heightened every touch.