Bondage Books Novels & Stories

"This is bondage furniture?" "Yes. Disguised. It has stocks, suspension points, St. Andrews cross, tie downs. It's quite creative. Master designed it." "How many employees do you have?" "Nine, all women except for the male slave. It's as many as we can handle in our basement." "Could you hire me. I'd love working with eight women." I laughed. "That depends. Could you submit to our female dominant and wear a cock cage?" "A what?"

But relaxation wasn't what I had in mind. I stood up and walked over to the bookshelf, running my fingers along the spines of the books until I found what I was looking for. The worn leather-bound volume felt heavy in my hands as I carried it over to the coffee table and opened it to the marked page. The intricate illustrations of whips, chains, and other BDSM paraphernalia made my pulse quicken with anticipation.

Sometimes it happened when he meant to have fun. Bobby loved martial arts and was always trying to learn more. Browsing around on YouTube one day he found videos about hojojutsu, the Samurai art of tying people up. He was particularly intrigued by the clips showing different ways of getting the rope on your opponent as you wrestled him. He ran these over and over, studying them, memorising every move. Hojojutsu was used in olden times for taking prisoners for ransom or questioning. Of course Bobby had another use in mind for this ancient art. He cruised S&M sites and found plenty of guys who wanted to be tied up. What he really needed, though, were guys who would resist.

One minute they lord around the house acting like they own everyone, the next minute, they are cuddling against your legs, begging to be pet, and following you everywhere. “It’s called bondage.” My heart quickened in my chest when he suddenly answered. “The human mind is a complex thing. And dangerous things such as restraint, control, and force can arouse us.” “People get aroused from bondage?” I blurted out, and he nodded. “Isn’t that dangerous? The ropes would cut off your blood circulation. How the hell are you supposed to get pleasure from that?” My breath caught in my throat when, in response to my question, Christian’s hand suddenly shot towards my neck, catching me in his grip.

"But I do not see it that way. I feel trapped in an endless cycle of bondage. First, My Master and now, you." "You f*cking see this as bondage?" He snarled and pushed deeper into her. "I let you do whatever you want. I let you show off your body and shake your a*s in front of those cøwards who do nothing but fantasize about what's mine. If you think punishing you for talking about other men's cøck in front of me is f*cking bondage, then you're mistaken, Cariño. But by all means, I can show you what bondage really is. Is that what you want?"

A piece of her must feel disgusted knowing that the look is one of hungry lust from an immortal. “We’ll be down in a minute,” I promise. Beau tightens his jaw. It looks like he wants to say something else, and based on the look on his face, that ‘something else’ probably involves moving away from his new prize. Instead he gives a clipped nod and leaves. Rebecca rolls off the bed. There are a few deep bruises around her wrists and ankles from being held in captivity. They’ve had a few days to heal, however, and the color has deepened to a shade that’s reminiscent of a molded eggplant.

------------------------------------------ TRIGGER WARNING This book contains scenes of torture, raw erotic content, and SUBTLE references to pedophilia (Chapter 1). This is not your typical romance novel. It dives deep into themes of WAR, LUST, DARK OBSESSIONS, EXPLICIT S3X SCENES AND GRUESOME MURDERS. This book is slow paced. It is a slow burn. If you’re here solely for the steamy scenes, then you're gonna have to wait till chapter 25.

While Anastasia was still at the academy... Far away from classrooms, lessons, and troublesome boys... Life within the Crimson Blood Pack continued as usual. Or at least... As usual as it could be. Inside one of the private chambers overlooking the inner courtyard, Anana sat comfortably curled into a large fur chair, a book resting open in her lap. The sight alone would have surprised most people who knew her. Years ago, she never would have imagined spending an afternoon like this. There had been a time when Anana would have chosen a sparring ground over a book without a second thought. Sitting still for hours and turning pages had never been her idea of enjoyment.

“These let both partners feel everything more intensely.” Jason’s hand brushed Aria’s lower back. “Interesting.” She swallowed. Then came the bondage section. Cuffs in leather and metal, soft ropes, blindfolds, collars, spreader bars. “These are for when you want to play with power,” the woman explained. “Control. Trust.” Aria’s eyes landed on a set of black leather cuffs with padding inside and small silver buckles. They looked… intense, but not terrifying. “You like those?” Jason asked quietly.

“All I know about BDSM is Fifty Shades of Grey, and I’m not into getting whipped.” “That’s fine. I’m not a sadist. Though I think you’re more of a masochist than you let on.” My brows knit, his words sparking something I didn’t want to admit. “In simple terms, there are many branches of BDSM. Sadism and masochism are the staples people know. The rest is as varied as the people who step into it.” I tilted my head, listening, willing to know more. “The first rule of any relationship is communication.” He posed it as a statement, but also a question. I found myself nodding. “There also has to be trust and mutual respect.”