Bondage Books Novels & Stories

I couldn't wrap my head around why anyone, let alone my sweet Melanie, would want to be told when to speak, how to sit, or what to do. I read about bondage and safe words. People using stuff like scarves, handcuffs just to tie someone up so they couldn't move a muscle. There was an entire section on impact play which was just a fancy term for hitting someone for pleasure. They listed different tools like leather crops, heavy paddles, and whips. It made my stomach somersault. The thought of deliberately leaving red marks on my wife’s skin felt totally wrong. It went against every single instinct I had as a husband.

Willow nods, she knows it will be. “I know; that’s why I’m putting several spells on it. One to hide the contents from anyone who hasn’t been given permission, one to bind the book closed so only I can open it, and another to make it invisible to everyone's eye when I’m not using it.” She has thought about it all, she will ensure no one can get into it.

it stays with me. I mark it green. And I tick black for “not done before.” Bondage comes next, broken down again. Wrists, ankles, full-body, breast binding, mouth. The specificity surprises me, but I go through them one by one, listening to the quiet voice inside me that knows the difference between curiosity and discomfort. Then comes Breath Control. The description reads: Only practiced safely, with awareness of pressure points and no obstruction that could cause damage. It’s written carefully, not with the usual bravado some men use when listing what they like, but with caution. Responsibility.

I signed other documents that needed to be signed and heaved a sigh. My eyes landed on another magazine on my desk, Victoria’s Secret: Bondage Edition. My gaze locked on the cover. Two supermodels, their bronzed skin gleaming under taut straps of leather, seductive eyes promising sin and surrender. My blood warmed. I flipped through the pages slowly, each turn feeding my curiosity. The new collection was bold and daring. It includes ropes, ties, and straps that looked like they could restrain and reveal at the same time.

“Arms over the backrest. Wrists together.” I obeyed. Her tail immediately lashed around both wrists, binding them to the chair’s carved spine so tightly I could feel my own pulse hammering against the leather. Then she knelt in front of me, spread my knees wide with her hands, and secured my ankles to the front legs using thin black cords that materialized from thin air—silky, unbreakable, enchanted. I was spread open, dripping, completely at her mercy. She stayed crouched between my thighs, studying my pussy like it was a sacred text. One clawed finger traced the outer lips without parting them.

LYRA I didn’t understand what was happening. One minute I was speaking to Connor and the next second I was suffocating on Alpha pheromones. My mind was hazy, my neck bowed in submission as the force of his power washed over me. I have never felt so small and powerless before. I could smell him. When it happened back in the office I thought it was a one time occurrence, but here I was, trapped, drowning in his scent. My knees weakened, my breath coming out in harsh pants. I felt the need to fall on my knees before him and plead for forgiveness but another part of me wanted to bury my nose in his neck and take in more of the delectable scent until the ache in my chest subsided.

“The fantasies. The things you think about when you touch yourself. I want to know what makes you wet.” My breath hitches. “I… I like the idea of not being in control, being held down or tied up, blindfolded. Where I can’t see or move and I just have to feel everything you do to me.” His eyes darken, but his voice stays calm. “Bondage. Sensory deprivation. You want to surrender completely.” “Yes,” I admit, voice barely above a whisper.