Spandex Bondage Stories Novels & Stories

“Good. Because I have not forgotten you either. Every time you clean this room, I find little traces of you. The way you fold the towels perfectly. The faint scent of your shampoo. I left those chocolates for you on purpose. Did you like them?” “I did,” I admitted, meeting his gaze. “They were the best I have ever tasted. Thank you. You did not have to do that.” “I wanted to. You work hard, Hazel. You deserve something sweet.” He stepped even closer, towering over me. “Tell me more about your studies. What is your favorite kind of forbidden story?” I shifted in the chair, suddenly very aware of how alone we were. “Ones where the powerful man notices the innocent girl. Where the attraction is

I would recognize what these were even in my sleep. Whips. Cuffs. Blindfolds. Gags. Collars. Leashes. Dildos. Sex toys. Nipple clamps. Vibrators. Candles sat on a table nearby and my eyes widened in sheer shock as realization dawned on me. Davin was into fucking BDSM. I expected a lot of things to be in this study, maybe even guns and explosives. But hell no, not a red room. Not a room full of my biggest desires. As a masochist, it was hard to find anyone who could ever match my freak. But this? Goodness, this was heaven here on earth. I grabbed the end of one rope and tied it around my wrists, binding them together, and I let out a soft moan.

A soft, leather collar was worn tight around her throat and she wouldn't stop swallowing, as if to make room. She’d already accepted more than a couple of drinks that night as they celebrated her final midterm exam. She’d been living with him a few weeks, and he couldn’t have been more elated with the company, the companionship. It had started out as lust, as a passing curiosity, but had quickly exploded into something more. A friendship of sorts. When he’d told her that he made and sold bondage equipment online, it wasn’t a total lie. He was the middle man, an intermediary for a bunch of fetish sites. But he didn’t make it, and he certainly didn’t need a model for his newest designs.

bringing her right to the edge of orgasm over and over without letting her come, until she was sobbing and begging, and then finally allowing release that was so intense she saw stars. Xavier introduced her to light bondage.....silk restraints that held her in vulnerable positions while he and his brothers took turns with her body. Silas showed her the pleasure of slow, sensual worship....treating her body like a temple, finding every sensitive spot, learning what made her gasp and moan. At hour twelve, they ordered food and fed her by hand while she sat naked between them, their fingers occasionally wandering to tease and touch between bites. At hour sixteen, they drew her a bath and washed

“The one you felt when you pulled me down. The one that opened before you were born.” She leans in, voice dropping to a whisper that brushes the inside of my ear. “The world bends around your blood, Saxa. when you resist too hard, it will push back.” I swallow hard, dizzy. “Why? Why are you showing me this? What on earth do you want from me?” She finally answers, “To untether you,” she whispers. “From your wolf, from your bond, from him.” My chest caves inward, panic slicing through me. “No—”

Darlene finally let go of Shannon and as she turned to the fridge to get pancake ingredients, she said as offhandedly as she could fake, "So, you say you've had fantasies about me, huh? About what we did last night? Tying me up and using me?" "Not really," Shannon answered, surprised at how easy it was to talk about this taboo subject with her boyfriend's mother. "I guess I never really thought about doing anything with you before; I've just always thought you were so pretty and sexy. And I certainly never thought about bondage or anything with anyone until I read some more incest/taboo stories on Literotica. I'd never even heard of the site until you left those stories open on your computer

That’s when I remembered his words: In half an hour, you’re going to be begging to come. “Don’t hog all the fun,” Andre said, now completely nude. “We’re supposed to be sharing her.” “Perhaps I am regretting agreeing to such an arrangement,” Joemar said. “Because right now, I want her all to myself.” Andre shouldered Roman out of the way and forced his hard length into my waiting lips. I took him eagerly, opening wide and taking as much as I could. It was a strangely-erotic sensation, being tied up. I was powerless. I was at the mercy of their whims. I had never been interested in bondage before, but at that moment I understood the appeal.

The silk slid from her shoulders pooled on the floor, leaving only a thin layer underneath — something softer, clinging to her curves. I tried to speak, but it came out as a hoarse whisper. “Aurora…” She didn’t answer. Then — a sharp sting in my arm. Quick, precise. My eyes darted to the source, and I saw it — a syringe, the metallic glint under the low light. The burn spread almost instantly, heat unfurling beneath my skin. My pulse kicked faster, not from fear alone but from something else — something chemical, wrong, invasive. I knew the sensation. Not from experience, but from whispered rumors and ugly stories. An aphrodisiac. A potent one.

“Tell me before I can't.” She didn’t. Of course she didn't. She reached for him instead, fingers fisting the hem of his shirt. He peeled it off, his breath hitching when she drew her legs up, cradling him between her thighs. The world fell away. They weren’t Calista Bloom and Marco Sanchez, or Serena and the enemy, or even two fugitives hiding from Stefano’s enemy’s wrath. In that moment, they were just flesh and longing and the ache of something that should have been forbidden but no longer cared to be.

The motion made my cramps spike, a low moan slipping free. In the room, he set me on the floor and gathered ropes from a coiled bundle on the wall—thick, soft cords dyed crimson, rough in texture but pliable. “These shibari ropes will bind you,” he explained, looping one around my torso first. He wove them, crossing over my chest to frame my nipples, cinching tight enough to restrict breath without cutting it off. Knots pressed into my skin, the friction sending shudders through me as he worked downward, binding my arms behind my back in a harness that forced my shoulders square. “Feel the weave claiming you? Every twist owns another piece.”