Modification Bdsm Stories Novels & Stories

His name was Brice. "She's desperate to get laid, it's kind of pathetic," another guy added. "I'd sleep with her, but I'd have to tie her down first," a third guy chimed in, followed by laughter from the group. My nose flared, and my jaw tightened in anger. Ashton was engrossed in listening to Esther, but he couldn't help but notice a change in his physical sensations. His cheekbones grew sharper as he overheard a conversation nearby. "The whole BDSM thing is a total lie," a blond guy named Brice remarked, lying on the sheet. "Every time she gets involved in this capture the flag game, it's like she has an orgasm. Just watch her."

“Begging your stepbrother to keep stroking your cock. Saying it’s wrong while you’re leaking all over my hand.” He tightened his grip again and started stroking them both faster, rougher, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the room. Elias moaned brokenly, hips rolling up into Damien’s fist despite himself. Tears of shame pricked at the corners of his eyes, but his cock throbbed harder than ever. “This is only the beginning,” Damien whispered, squeezing them both almost painfully. “I’ve wanted to break you for years. And now I finally get to.” He kept stroking them together, slow and filthy, watching every desperate reaction on Elias’s flushed face. “Welcome home to me, Elias.”

I leaned back against the smooth, cool marble edge while my hand slid between my legs almost immediately, fingers parting my swollen folds as I let out a shaky breath. I was still soaked, a humiliating mix of my own arousal and Richard’s pathetic load. I opened the hidden browser on my phone, the one I kept password-protected, and went straight to my favorite BDSM site. My fingers trembled with need as I typed in the search bar: “dominant muscular man ruins married woman.” The video loaded. It was exactly what I needed tonight.

Like they were both poking at something they’d been circling for eight months. Somehow they ended up making a bet. One week. Her phone locked in the kitchen drawer — no social media, no mindless scrolling, no hiding behind the screen. His flirting completely off. No charming the barista, the neighbor, the woman at the dry cleaner. Nothing. Loser becomes the winner’s personal sex slave and maid for one full week. Cooking. Cleaning. Obeying anything the winner desires. No limits. They shook on it. Her hand was warm in his. She held the handshake a second too long, eyes locked on his, and something low and dangerous twisted in his gut.

She beamed before walking off away, leaving us alone once again. While I ate, Adam watched me and sipped his glass of wine. "What would you like to know about me?" The image of Adam's chest flashed through my mind. "I noticed there were burns and bruises on your chest. How were they inflicted? I can't figure it out." Adam smirked, and his eyes glowed with passion. "Do you know what BDSM is, Doctor?" "I know of it." "The bruises are from whips and the burns from a lighter." "Oh, I see."

Every time he bottomed out, I felt the vibration in my very bones, a deep, bruising intimacy that Manuel’s illness had stolen from us years ago. "How long have you been craving a man who doesn't care about your feelings, Blaire?" he asked, his hands moving to my hair, wrapping a handful of my dark curls around his fist and tugging my head back. "How many nights did you lie awake wanting to be taken like this?" "Every single night," I confessed, the words torn from me as his thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves at my core, grinding against me in time with his brutal thrusts.

He carried me to the bedroom, tied my wrists to the headboard with a soft rope, and spread my legs wide. Then he used his mouth and the vibrator on me for what felt like hours; edging me mercilessly, bringing me to the brink again and again until I was shaking and crying. Finally, the pressure became too much. “Please!” I gasped. “Please… I’m so close, please…” Damien pulled out instantly. He removed the vibrator, untied me, and pulled me into his arms. His breathing was ragged. For once I saw real conflict in his eyes.

It was a fully equipped private BDSM room. Damien closed and locked the door behind us. “Take the dress off. Leave the lingerie and heels on. Get on the bed, on your back, legs spread wide for me.” My hands trembled as I pulled the red dress over my head and climbed onto the large bed in the center of the room. I lay on my back and spread my thighs as wide as I could, feeling completely exposed under the red lights. Damien started selecting toys from the shelves with deliberate care. He brought over a thick, realistic dildo, a smaller vibrating bullet, heavy nipple clamps with a long chain, a leather flogger, a paddle, and several different sized anal plugs.

“One drink. And you stay close to me. No wandering off.” Relief flooded through me as well as something much more dangerous than that. “Thank you.” I’d told my best friend I was exploring for the night. I was supposed to give her the details after I was back, but how could I tell her I met her father at a BDSM club and told him to show me around?

My hips ground against his hands shamelessly as if my body was begging for a release. He bit into my ear, making my whole body quiver. “You come when I say you come, not before.” Tears gathered at my lashes as he pushed me higher, fingers pumping into me until my climax was just on the edge. I was seconds away when he pulled out of my completely, leaving me gasping, knees threatening to give out. The bastard smirked down at me. I whimpered, humiliated but needy. Then I heard it, the sounds of heels clicking on the pavement. A woman’s voice filled the air, laughter carrying in the air. Adrian’s eyes glinted with something wicked. His hand slid back between my thighs, fingers thrusting into me