Best 414 quotes in «bdsm quotes» category

Sophie was now tied to the massage table with her legs spread and her feet in stirrups. The three men had left the room and the little elfish servant was standing between her taut legs and examining her private parts closely. She closed her eyes. The strange little pervert moved in with his nimble fingers and started to explore her private parts and all the beautiful little nuances between her legs. His head was bent over and very close to her entrance while his fingers probed softly and meticulously but creepily around her delicate flower. Soon he was spreading her moist lips and his fingers began probing alongside and just inside her opening. It was feeling astonishingly rude and lecherous at this point and Sophie was embarrassed at how aroused she felt. She lifted her head to look and ..EEK.. she saw his pointy face between her legs ...and OMG... she was extremely startled to see the length of his huge purple pointed tongue that darted in and out of his mouth while he drooled and masterly fingered her opening. Sophie was now close to delirious. Was this for real? She looked again and yes, it was his tongue and it was a giant, purple, throbbing appendage, thrusting rapidly in and out of his little mouth.

So you’ll get your kicks by exerting your will over me.” “It’s about gaining your trust and your respect, so you’ll let me exert my will over you. I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy, even in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy – it’s a very simple equation.” “Okay, and what do I get out of this?” He shrugs and looks almost apologetic. “Me,” he says simply.

So, you take no prisoners, huh?’ Flynn leaned in close. Her pulse clicked up a gear at the deliberate invasion of her personal space. ‘No, sweetie. We take prisoners, of the short, female variety. We just don’t fight fair when we catch ‘em.

Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me. So throw me down, tie me up, and show me how you like me.

Submissive men, men who desire to serve as consensual slaves, are on one of the most difficult journeys in the world today, because they have rejected patriarchal privilege and embraced their own heart's calling instead.

Take this fucking thing off me!" he demanded. "Good morning to you too, Nick," Damian said mildly. He unlocked the door without haste and went to his office, Nick dogging his every footstep. "Did you --?" "I didn't touch it or myself. Take it off right now!" Nick said angrily. Damian sat down and motioned Nick closer. "We're going to have to have a talk about topping from the bottom. I don't allow that, pet.

The collar represented something of big importance to her. He knew she saw it as losing who she was. He saw it as her trusting him enough to let him be in charge.

That’s enough naughty girl,” you say in a mocking tone, “I am going to put you over my knee and spank you for being such a bad wife tonight. It will hurt, but you’re going to enjoy it a lot more than you’ll admit…

That’s means you’re mine. Mine to care for.” He ran his thumb over her full lower lip. “Mine to fuck.” He leaned forward, his mouth an inch from hers. “And mine to protect. Don’t forget that.” Zander deVries

The club was only dimly lit aside from the flashing strobes and rotating beams casting their vibrant glow over the pulsing, writhing crowd. The heat of the club was a stark contrast to the chill of the air outside, and she pulled slightly at the sweater, cursing her modesty for quite possibly the first time.

The craft of a master is not imposing dominance, but winning submission.

That’s an awful lot of littles, don’t you think?” “Perhaps.” He displayed his hand. “Big.” He set hers next to his, so small and delicate contrasted with his thick, blunt fingers. Why did holding her fragile hand raise every protective instinct he had?

That's it? That's all that happens after you topple from grace? We lose our rubies and rations?" Marshall smirked. "Woe is me.

That was some powerful shit. Like mind and pussy-numbing, fuckilepsy inducing, reproductive organ-exploding powerful. You really are some kind of flogger wielding sex God.

The air felt thick with the feeling between us, like it was filling the room: a room full of our carnal heat, our hot desire for each other. Both my hands were clenched on the tablecloth, bunching it tightly, as he continued to swipe the belt against my quivering ass cheeks, and I could feel his tight fist yank repeatedly on my hair.

The deepest show of love is when you surrender your mind, body and soul to me to use as I please, trusting that when I take you to the brink of my self-control, I'll bring you back more whole than before.

The leather community is largely anarchistic and shares a healthy distrust of power and arrogance.

The idea makes a lot of people uncomfortable. [...] It's hurt a great many people and been responsible for a great deal of misery. But, to my mind at least, that doesn't mean it can't now bring pleasure to someone.

The only way I'm letting you go is off.

The loud rasp of leather yanked through Carson’s belt loops sent her attention to his torso. “What are you doing?” London’s panicked gaze shot to his face. “I don’t have a collar on me.” “I am wholly disinterested in being collared.” “One weekend, London.” He grasped one of her hips with his free hand. “If you’re disappointed at any time, you can walk. I’ll never speak of it again. Our work together will go unaffected. No one—and I mean no one—but us will know.” “Would you put that in writing?” Her eyes filled with mischief. Priceless. London lured him toward a lightning storm. He could play. Hell, nothing appealed in the moment more than a weekend playing with London. Yes, this is what he wanted. Now he needed to know if she was willing. “I’ll do one better.” He snaked the belt around her waist until the leather rested against her hips. “I’m not a notch on a belt.” “You could never be a notch, London Chantelle. You’re the whole belt, sugar.” Her face softened, and the playfulness in her eyes died. He recognized the deliberation behind them, the wonder if she’d be safe, here and at work. London needn’t have worried. She might get scared, but mutual satisfaction was the only way his brand of sexual fulfillment worked. “Say yes or no.” He pressed his torso to her corseted body, the last space between her body and his obliterated. “But say yes.” “What will happen if I say yes?” “What you want. What you’ve probably always wanted.” Her eyes misted with a surprising vulnerability. “Yes.

Theo was so pleased with her, so proud of her. In love with her, whatever love was.

The pain of being treated like a mere object. And a sense that this pain would turn into pleasure.

These streets were his. He fed where he pleased and on whomever he wished.

There is, in fact, no safeword for chemical burns under one’s fingernails.

There was no going back and that was exactly what she craved. Deep breath. “Consent.

The question kept breaking into her thoughts as she maneuvered through light traffic and an increasingly difficult roadway. On impulse, she pulled into the crowded parking lot at the supermarket and made her way down one aisle and then another, tossing things into the basket without any real plan. Part of her wanted to snuggle into a cozy domestic situation with Jarrod, snow piled high outside, a pot of soup simmering on the stove, maybe a pie in the oven, and his rumbling baritone muttering sweet nothings in her ear. The other part wanted to run, fast, to her office and lock herself inside where she would scan potential vacation spots and book her flight. Leave tomorrow or, well, as soon as the runways were clear.

There is a certain loveliness, I think, to performing deep cleaning in one’s underwear on a beautiful summer day.

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.

There was a fine line between fear that would excite and fear that would paralyze the senses.

The world of tricky-tacky boxes, defined social behaviour, untrammeled egotism, sexism and material acquisitiveness, all powered by insecurity that passes for security, is rarely cajoled, least of all questioned. Much of the magic of of life space contrast has passed out of North American life.

The tiny focal points of pain still glowed on his nerve endings, like stars coming into view one by one in a dark, bare sky. One by one—in the middle of his buttock, just below his collarbone, on the inside of his thigh—more stars came into focus, each glowing brightly at first before settling into the same intensity as the ones before, slowly forming a constellation.

The way she’d whispered this told him she was thinking about some of her less favorite attributes and how she could never see herself viewing them as assets. Women were so fucking hard on themselves. “Bailey, you are who you are, like no other. Embrace it.

The Warrior Princess Submissive is - at least in my humble opinion - quite possibly destined to be the hope and salvation of the D/s lifestyle from an ever-increasing wave of attacks by a small cadre of radical feminists and misandrists who seek to equate D/s with misogyny.

The women I’m attracted to have to know their worth. That measurement can only be weighed from the inside, and when that’s taken into account and she truly appreciates it? Everything on the outside of her becomes an asset.

This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” “Yes it is.” ”Am I allowed to call you names?” It was very very hard not to laugh. Impertinent little brat.

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.

This new brand of mastery, of dominance that demanded she bare her soul, not just surrender her body, gave him a terrible power over her.

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.

This time his voice comes from the left and I hear his footfall moving around my body as I obey. Suddenly I am all limbs, stretching out to please him. I am absurdly vulnerable and beyond aroused. I want him now.

This is your last chance to go home, son.” It was the loudest I’d heard him speak. I froze. Cock, meet jeans. Jeans, please contain cock.

To have to perform a scene, a punishment scene like that, was extremely unpleasant. It bothered me to hurt you, Jessica,” he growled. “You will let me hold you, and offer me some comfort in return.

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.

What are you doing?” “Whatever I want.

Totally drained he could only manage one but he made it a good one tongue included. “Delicious ” he murmured. “So depraved ” Colton muttered. “Thank you.” “Get off me.” “Mine ” “Stings.” “Boohoo.

Turn around.” Only two words, but they deliver such a sensual threat. I do as you ask without question. You are right behind me, breathing hard into the small of my neck, where I like to be kissed.

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.

We've been down the road of your hasty exits too many times, Mrs. Danvers. You married your master, and you married a sadist--of your own free will. You might remember that when you're tempted to walk out in a huff, defy my orders, and behave like a selfish brat. You got that?

What are you doing?” Her voice shook. “Whatever I want, sweetheart.

What do we have here?” Grant slurs at me. He seems different and it raises flags in my mind. His fingers wrap around a section of my hair and it scares me. His face is flushed red and his eyes are glassy and bright. I can smell the smoky scent of whiskey or scotch rolling off his tongue as he speaks and breathes heavily. “I’m lost and I need a ride home.” My voice wavers as I speak and I hate it. I fist my hands in the hem of my blazer. “I’ll get Albert for you, but first spend some time with me,” he slurs again, sounding like his tongue is too large for his mouth. As if sensing my attention, the tip of his tongue sneaks out and slides along his supple bottom lip. He smiles as he tastes the alcohol that’s staining his mouth. His eyes are bright and shiny and glazed over. He has a smirk on his face that shows off his dimple. It no longer reminds me of Whitt. It seems sinister and dangerous- promising something I’m not ready to experience. The feel of his fingers playing with my hair gives me goosebumps and I shiver as my scalp tightens, sucking up the pleasant attention. I do my first stupid-girl moment of my life. I shameless crush on a guy and let it turn my thoughts to mush. “Okay, if you promise to call Albert first.” I try to negotiate with him and he gives me a naughty smirk for agreeing. He backs me up with his physical presence. His front touches mine- chest-to-chest. His lips part and breathes the smoky, whiskey scent onto my chin. My back hits the door behind me with an audible thump. He reaches around me and I don’t wince. I anticipate him touching me and crave it. Instead, his hand twists the doorknob by my hip and I fall backwards. I’m pushed into a dark room until my legs connect with the edge of a bed. I can’t see anything, and the only sound is our combined breathing. I feel alive with caution. I’m aware of every hair, every nerve on my flesh. My senses are so in-tuned that I can feel my system pumping the blood through my veins nourishing my whole body.

What do you want?” he asked. I want. I want. She knew how to answer I should. I must. The occasional I need. Kay Denehy had never been an I want kind of girl. But she wanted now. The wanting squirmed over her skin from her scalp to her toes. It gathered heavily in her breasts and between her legs. “I’m scared,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “I know. You don’t do this kind of thing.” She shook her head. “But you will now. With me.