Best 449 of Bdsm quotes - MyQuotes
Maybe I’ll leave you hard and aching for days, months, years. That’s how long I’ve been hard for you. Turn about’s fair play, dontcha think, Paul Guy?” (from Finding Eden Excerpt)
S&M is as psychological as it is physical and sexual, Zach. Imagine being as deep inside a woman’s mind as you are inside her body.
By all means be submissive in the bedroom (if you are that way inclined), but don't be submissive to life. Being life's bitch is no fun at all. Life may play up in many ways, but it's up to you to take control, take charge and show life who's really calling the shots.
He’s still there. Kay diligently avoided eye contact—not that she could even make out the stranger’s eyes by moonlight from thirty yards away. She’d assumed she’d have the beach to herself on this brisk Tuesday night in late May. Didn’t everyone else have a life? The wet sand at the water’s edge was smooth and frigid under her bare toes—her sandals dangled from her fingers. The crisp, salt-scented breeze billowed her calf-length skirt and open cotton blazer, and whipped strands of pale blonde hair across her face. She planted her feet as the next icy wave surged ashore, leaving her toes buried in sand. After two more waves, only the insteps showed. A flash of silver drew her eye down the beach. Not silver, she saw now, but a white dress shirt being balled up and tossed to the sand. The shirt belonging to the stranger she mustn’t make eye contact with because you never know. He wasn’t looking her way, so she watched him. She watched him pull off his black shoes and socks. She watched him unzip his dark slacks and step out of them. She watched him drop his briefs and kick them away. Her head snapped forward. That’s why you never make eye contact! Because you never know! Because the most normal-looking man can turn out to be some nut job who thinks nothing of stripping in front of a strange woman and—and— She sneaked a peek. And running into the ocean full-tilt.
You are not allowed to get lost unless I want to lose you. You aren’t allowed to be found, unless it’s me doing the finding. And the only way you’re allowed to die is if I choose to kill you with my own hands. Your life doesn’t belong to you anymore, and if I have to murder you tonight and paint the snow with your blood to make you understand that, I will. You are mine, Kingsley. End of discussion.
It was as if the blinders to his vision had been lifted and he wanted to make up for every moment the two of them had missed.
A sound from upstairs sends my thought process reeling. It’s just a small noise, perhaps the sound of your feet brushing the crimson carpet in the bedroom? It’s not loud or menacing, but it sends a wave of adrenaline crashing through me. You’re on your way!
Emmanuelle De Maupassant
On many nights I have availed myself of these very gentlemen, in the adjoining room. Each time, I wondered if you might arrive and see me, as I took my pleasure, allowing their hands to explore my body. There is no part of me that has not been kissed and enjoyed. I opened myself in welcome, encouraging my suitors to bury themselves deep and hard, to obliterate all reserve and find the heart of me.” Mademoiselle Noire - The Gentlemen's Club
We are drawn to repetition. We can watch the tide rolling for hours into shore. The clouds skittering across the sky. We can listen to the pulsing beat of bongo drums and are drawn magnetically to the slap, slap, slap of a girl being chastised. The human is a mystery, even too himself.
He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into him with an unyielding strength. She’d been unmistakably seized.
I can let go of the twenty-three-year-old idiot who didn't realize just how much he could love you. I can. He's gone. I can let go of the man who was so tied up in his own guilt that he didn't really see you for years. But I will never let go of the eighty-year-old man who will hold your hand until the day he dies. I will fight for that old man. I will never let go of him.
I don’t think I like the idea that you just control me, but you get to do anything you like.” “Ah, but that’s because you don’t understand the power exchange. Note that I used the word exchange. Listen, there are as many different ways to practice BDSM as there are people who practice it. I like to play. I like to know that my lover will turn to me when she needs something. I’ll want to protect you. And I like to give you what you need. It makes me feel good. It makes me feel necessary.
If he was in danger of anything at all, it was spontaneous submissive combustion due to his master’s teasing.
These streets were his. He fed where he pleased and on whomever he wished.
She saw the shallow lines beaded with blood in her long mirror, and when he told her that she was beautiful, she believed him.
Shut up. Take down your pants. I'm going to mark you as mine." Nick squeaked and held onto his belt, fighting Damian for possession of it. "Here? Everyone will hear. They'll know!" "I want them to know," Damian said, winning the wrestling match for the belt as was inevitable that he would. "London!" Nick gasped. "London!" Damian stopped, his eyes clearing as he noticed how terrified Nick looked. After a long minute, he pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you'd like it.
You have a gorgeous ass, and it holds handprints beautifully.” Oh, well, how nice for me.
You're unpredictable and dangerous and protect those you love fiercely. You should be proud. To me you're more than a knight in some stupid shiny armour. You're the monster who no one can tame but the woman he loves. - Tess Snow
You gently lift my chin with one finger and stare deep into my eyes. Automatically I drop my gaze to avoid eye contact with you, but not before I see the debauchery loaded in your expression. “Whose slut are you?” you ask, “and you have permission to look at me whilst you reply.” I glance up at you quickly and take a moment to absorb your beautiful face before you deprive me of it again. “I am your slut, Master – only yours.” Your eyes burn into mine and you too pause to relish your utter possession of me.
I stared at him. At this too-thin, too-sincere boy. This person. Because I knew what he meant. I understood exactly. And I’d felt it too, that interior certainty. But over the years, I’d let all the fervour fade. I’d stopped believing in it, somehow. I’d let it become something I did, not something I was.
Funishment - not truly discipline.
I was not merely cleaning an oven; I was improving the world.
This is about more." He arched, tilting a little. Billy set the weight swinging again. "Tell me what it's about." "Uh... It's... I... It's about everything. It's like you're inside me, like my bones.
Though the Mistress is all about power, confidence and control, she still must give back to her clients who provide the very platform she stands on. The Mistress is not self-made by any means. With her submissive she creates, she designs, she imagines, she becomes. It’s a relationship; it’s an exchange.
Aren't you ready to experience the emotional side of a D/s relationship? For a real taste I suggest On Becoming His - one woman's emotional journey into being owned.
I can’t rock you on my lap, if you’re not here.
In the past I was a vicious hunter. I would stalk my prey with pinpoint accuracy. Ever since Monica came into my life I’ve abstained from the game. It almost feels strange to stand here and look to the crowd knowing I could pick one and f*ck them into oblivion. I won’t though. I may love her, but that isn’t the reason. If I were to pick someone for the sake of revenge sex then I’m giving control to Monica and Dalton for betraying me. I’m strong enough to wait. A good hunter is always patient and never stalks in anger.' 'I always crack it until Tobias stops flinching at the sound. It’s never the same amount of times. I don’t want it to become obvious so I always do it a few more times to create a sense of surprise. I coil up the leather and with the flick of my wrist I set a perfect line against Monica’s back. She yelps in pain and surprise, and Tobias joins her. He thought he’d get the first blow. I breathe through the pounding in my cock. It beats in time with my rapidly beating heart. I flick my wrist again taking Monica across the shoulder. I see Tobias tense as she screams. Mustn’t allow the slaves to think they are taking even turns. The blow’s shock is what makes my cock burn for release. I palm my balls as they tighten, threatening to shoot my release up the stock of my dick. I inhale through my nose and breathe out my mouth until I regain my control. I flick my wrist again and hit Monica across her thighs. She screams bloody murder at the ceiling and I smile to myself. It hurts like a bitch, but the marks will fade. I never break skin. This is my passion- my gift.
I'm a big man, sugar. When I come down on a woman, I want soft, not a bundle of sticks that I might break." - Logan
He pulled off the condom brusquely, wiped the head on my cheek, and threw it in the gutter. My humiliation was scorching hot. I couldn't help touching myself yet another time. His eyes called me 'slut' as I came again.
But I wasn't done," she pouted, no longer hungry for anything but him. "Yes, you were." "Yes, sir." "Lay down on your back." "Very yes, sir.
Much though we like these panties," he says, tugging at the small material covering my pulsating sex, "they're only going to be in the way...
It was good for her though, to submit to things that weren’t for her pleasure, but his.
Sensuality is beautiful, and dominance and submission in the right context is a passionate art. A muse which ignites the flame of femininity, which enraptures both partners in complete euphoria, magnifying both the masculine and the feminine in one tantalizing unit.
I’ve succumbed to the absolute power of the man that pulls, culls, calls my unwitting submission. And I’ve embraced the power of my submission to draw him in further, to have him kneeling and worshiping what he’s conquered. I’ve known surrender and strength with him. True freedom. And a hell of a lot of orgasms.
This is the owner of Dark Haven. Master Xavier. Call him ‘my liege.’” Xavier sighed. He had no idea who’d first given him that title, but the submissives took such delight in it, he’d allowed it to continue.
You're thinking that if the North Pole has little elves and shape-shifting reindeer that maybe werewolves aren't quite so farfetched. Am I right? Well, you're wrong. There's no such thing as werewolves. That would just be crazy.
Her inexperience demanding to be overturned intrigued him. She’d called him a gentleman. He was. When shown a door, he’d been taught to open it.
There is a glimmer of metal that wavers between his thighs. He turns to face me. The balls of his large gauge nipple rings catch my eye as they glint in the light of the room. But, it is the tintinabular rings below that cause my eyes to descend to his shining metallic beacon of love. I feel my jaw slightly drop open and a small puff of air escapes over my lips. I am wildly transfixed. What is that? What will he do with it? I nervously wonder without a solution. He moves toward me with the sound of pockets full of change, and I know my life will never be the same.
My turn?” asks the blond from behind me. “Didn’t you say she deserved a good spanking for her recent misdemeanours Mike?” His voice has taken on a husky, carnal quality since our introduction at the bench, and I suspect there is another hard cock waiting for me. I struggle impatiently at the thought. “Absolutely Niall,” Mike replies, “but not here. I want her punished in public, to make sure she remembers the lesson. Sean, pull in at the next layby will you...
I was begging you not to get married and if you do manage to talk some poor woman into marrying you, please pull out,” Paul said in a slow, condescending manner, raising his eyebrows in hopes of clarifying. “Sterilization should be a legal requirement for pricks like you.
Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure! Always your goal is pleasure. Pain, yes of course! Yet pain must only be used as a means to add to your sub's sensation of pleasure. To do otherwise is un péché noir - a black sin. Such will tarnish the soul. André Chevalier
I want you wet for me at all times. I don't know when I might want to fuck you.
.. Avoid any Dom with a large ego. Do not mistake arrogance for confidence.
I no longer fear the pain...I fear no release from this torture...knowing that I've hurt him and he can't forgive me...that he won't be able to make me his good girl again.
Little girl, you could wrap my cock in duct tape, and I'll still make you see God.
He's not a monster, he's a teddy bear," Eve said defiantly. "He's my teddy bear. I don't want you to hurt him. I want you to fix him." "There's nothing to fix," Danny said. "Paul's not broken.
Put your hands up against the wall as well,” you snarl and your voice is so close now – I can feel your hot breath against my neck. The proximity makes me feel even hornier. I comply immediately, feeling instantly more vulnerable this way and loving the increased jeopardy. I know you want me as much as I want you, but to prove the point, you push your frame up against me. Your body is hard and I feel your cock straining against my ass through your trousers. Automatically I arch my hips and grind myself against you. It’s a gamble I am likely to be punished for, but the sensation is so good I am willing to take the risk.
I can infer the words you aren’t saying. If I were yours this would never happen again. No one would ever lay a hand on me,” she mocked. “You’d treat me better, like a queen, and we’d live happily ever after.” He had no rebuttal. His eyes shifted to her gold torque, abandoned on his nightstand. Not queen, but close. My blood is strong. Ancient. You would be...formidable. We would not live ever after, but hunt together forevermore.
Rapunzel took a ragged breath and called back, “What are you?” “Pardon?” “What are you,” she asked again, frustration mingling with her fear, “What sort of beast are you? Are you a wolf?” “Does a wolf walk on two legs? I am a man.” There was a pause before Rapunzel called again, “Are you a manwolf?
It’s universally known that the more forbidden something is, the more desirable it becomes. I feel this truth like a fist around my balls as I enter my classroom after lunch and find the forbidden object of my desire waiting for me.