Excerpt: The Big Book of Bondage - Edited by Alison Tyler

Your Favorite Kind of Kink

Nobody likes bondage more than editrix Alison Tyler, who is fascinated with the ecstasies of giving up, giving in, and entrusting one's pleasure (and pain) into the hands of another. The sensual stories in The Big Book of Bondage delve into a world of unrestrained passion, revealing heart-stopping dynamics that will thrill and inspire you. While cuffed and cropped, a sub forgets her safeword in the delightfully teasing "Small Mercies," by Rita Winchester. A dominating boss takes full control after office hours in ADR Forte's surprising "In Charge," while the demanding pro in Andrea Dale's "'Golf' Spelled Backwards" coaches a better performance from her (naked) caddy one fall afternoon.

To Alison Tyler, bondage means "I trust you to keep me safe," and yet BDSM can also mean "I trust you to hurt me." Because the most important part of bondage, of dominance—of all the slippery ways one can play with those concepts—is trust. Of course, in The Big Book of Bondage, trust involves leather cuffs, collars, whips, blindfolds, belts, gags and toys.

How deliciously, devilishly twisted is that?

With contributed stories by Teresa Noelle Roberts, Rita Winchester, Donna George Storey, Thomas S. Roche, Madeline Elayne, ADR Forte, Sophia Valenti, Shanna Germain, Vida Bailey, D.L. King, Heidi Champa, Andrea Dale, Derek McDaniel, Giselle Renarde, Stella Harris, Kiki DeLovely, Lucy Felthouse, Jax Baynard, Maria See, Sharon Wachsler, Devin Phillips, Sommer Marsden, Kristina Lloyd, N.T. Morley, and Alison Tyler.

Purchasing links:

Amazon / Barnes & Nobles / Cleis Press

The Big Book of Bondage, edited by Alison Tyler

Excerpt from “Commuter Training” by Teresa Noelle Roberts

Daniel sends the texts to her at the same time each workday, right around the time Aileen is shutting down her computer and wrapping things up at the office. Most of them say the same thing: See you at the station. I love you.

Once or twice a week, though, Daniel adds a command.

Most often it’s the simple one: The usual.

Today, the text comes in just when she expects it. Its contents are a surprise, but not entirely.  Nipple clips and balls. I love you.

Aileen’s coworkers think she’s a pack rat, that she carries paperbacks and snacks and a makeup kit worthy of Hollywood in her voluminous red purse. It’s partly true, though she’s long since switched to a Kindle instead of the three or four books she used to carry in case of train breakdowns and other emergencies. The bag that looks like a makeup kit, however, contains mascara and one lonely red lipstick.

The rest of its secret contents, the things she takes care not to spill out when she actually puts on lipstick and mascara in the women’s room, are supplies for Daniel’s closing-time texts. A clit clip with decorative beads. Crotchless panties, ridiculous when she so often goes without panties anyway, but Daniel occasionally likes the look, and the fact that they’re slightly uncomfortable, rubbing on her pussy lips in a way that both irritates and, as a constant reminder of Daniel, arouses. A remote-control vibrating egg for her to bury deep in a cunt wet with knowing it’s under command. The remote function doesn’t have much range, so she knows Daniel will pick her up at the train station and probably take her out somewhere where he can delight and torment and embarrass her by bringing her to the verge of orgasm in public. Another vibe, this one with batteries, to use on herself before she leaves the office restroom. A garter belt, to go with the fishnets, both black and red, and outrageous black stockings with a rhinestone seam and Cuban heels—any of those might mean he’ll be taking her out to dinner, or simply that he’ll be taking her, as soon as she sets her purse down and is stripped to nothing but the garter belt and stockings. Bunny ears— that’s one of Daniel’s more unusual kinks, and one she finds secretly giggle-inducing. Still, his reaction when she walks in the door wearing them is well worth the odd looks she gets on the train. She might not understand the fascination, but she can certainly appreciate that he’s fascinated.

            The items she seeks this afternoon in the cramped white stall are silvery tweezer clips connected by a chain, and silicone ben wa balls.

Her breath catches as she takes the toys out, sets them on top of the toilet paper holder.

Her clit is already throbbing.

Acting fast, Aileen strips her sweater half-off, leaving it around her neck. She shucks her red bra and shoves it into the depths of her purse.

The restroom is warm enough that the women in the office joke about saunas and cut-rate tropical vacations

when they head there, but Aileen’s nipples stiffen as if

the air is icy.

Desire shoots through her, cuttingly sharp yet melting. Her hands want to linger on the softness of her own breasts. The temptation to draw out the caressing, to feel that surge of lust, is almost impossible to resist. Her already stiff nipples harden some more. She started getting wet as soon as she read the text and started imagining carrying out the instructions. Now, actually doing so, she’s flooding, the damp pressure of her red cotton hipsters, which she hadn’t noticed all day, suddenly an erotic torture. Aileen twists her nipples, telling herself it’s just to make sure she’s ready for the clips, and stifles a soft moan at the pleasure-pain.

No. Time presses, the commuter rail doesn’t wait for distracted perverts, and she’s lucky no one’s waiting yet for the occupied stall. Everyone wants to use the bathroom at this time of day, before getting on the T or commuter rail or beginning a walk to home.

She puts the right clip on and slides it to just the right degree of tightness, enough that she can feel it pressing snug and safe, but not so much that it will turn to agony before she gets home. Then the left. She’s biting her lip now, letting that small pain help her think through the delicious pain in her nipples. She lets the chain go then, hisses at the shock of its coolness against her heated skin. Too good. There’s no way she’s going to make it home this time without coming. One jounce of the train might finish her, and she doesn’t even have the ben wa balls in yet.