Best 414 quotes in «bdsm quotes» category

We were in the middle of a scene, and this crazy woman comes roaring out of the crowd, screaming, grabs my whip, and damned if she didn’t punch me.” Rubbing his reddened chin, the man’s lips curved a little. “It’s almost funny, but still, she ruined our scene.

We would not live ever after, but hunt together forevermore.

What are you doing?” “Whatever I want.

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 know about me, Isabeau?" He leaned forward, and I forced myself to stay still instead of shying away. He was so close that I could smell the subtle notes of his cologne: musk and wood with a hint of leather. What did he want me to say? That everyone said he was an ogre? Or that they all wanted to sleep with him anyway? "I..." "Go on. You won't hurt my feelings." He was still smiling, slight dimples visible in both cheeks. The sight was destracting, to say the least. "I know that you're the youngest CEO and partner in the company's history, and I know that you earned the spot by working your way up after graduate school instead of using your inheritance as a crutch." "Everyone knows that. What do you know about me? The real stuff. None of this press release bullshit." I looked down at my hands, anything not to have to look up at his face so close to me. "Um. People say... they say that you're scary. And that your assistants don't last long." He laughed, a deep, warm sound that seemed to fill up the office. I glanced up to see him smirking at me. I relaxed my grip on the desk a little. Maybe I wasn't being fired after all. "What else do they say?" Oh, God. He can't possibly want me to tell him everything. Does he? The look on his face confirmed that he did. It was clear by the way he looked at me that I wasn't leaving this office until I gave him exactly what he wanted. "They say. Um... They say that you're very, uh, good looking... and impossible to please." "Oh they do, do they?" He sat back, and tented his fingers beneath his chin. "Well, do you agree with them? Do you think I'm scary, handsome and woefully unsatisfied?" My mouth dropped open, and I quickly closed it with a snap. "Yes. I mean, no! I mean, I don't know..." He stood, then, and leaned in close, towering over me. "You were right the first time." Anxiety coursed through me, but I have to admit, being this close to him, smelling his scent and feeling the heat radiating off his body, it made me wonder what it would be like to be in his arms. To be his. To be owned by him... His face was almost touching mine when he whispered to me. "I am unsatisfied, Isabeau. I want you to be my new assistant. Will you do that for me? Will you be at my beck and call?" My breath left me as his words sunk in. When I finally regained it, I felt like I was trembling from head to toe. His beck and call. "Wh-what about your old assistant?" Mr. Drake leaned back again and took my chin in his hand, forcing my eyes to his. "What about her? I want you." His touch on my skin was electric. Are we still talking about business? "Yes, Mr. Drake." His thumb stroked my cheek for the briefest of moments, and then he released me, breathless, and wondering what I'd just agreed to.

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.

What kind of slut do you think I am?” Theo bumped his hips against hers. “This might not be the best moment to ask me that.

What’s your name?” “Anne Shirley.” He quirked a brow and she amended, “Miss Havisham.” “Tell me in truth.” “Honestly?” She snatched her self-harming kit from his grasp before he could blink. The fingers of his empty hands curled closed. She tucked it beneath her arm with smug satisfaction. “Scarlett O’Hara.” Luca extended an arm, leaning against the stone wall and intending to trap her in the corner. She drew back from him, bravado faltering. In that moment he saw a woman cringing under a man’s wrath, afraid. He felt ashamed for intimidating her, and he relaxed his posture slightly. She stared back into his eyes, waiting. “Tell me your name,” he commanded. Her lips parted and she exhaled in a confiding whisper, “Amelia Bedelia.

What turns me on is not what I do to your body, it is what I do to your mind

What will happen if I say yes?” “What you want. What you’ve probably always wanted.” Her eyes misted with a surprising vulnerability. “Yes.

When you can look into the mirror and see yourself as the beautiful woman I do, then I'll know I've given you the one gift no one can ever take away.

When I want to.” He ran his finger over her lips. “You don’t get a vote, honey.

When the power of the shift rips the human body apart and transforms it into its new shape, there lives a second, less than a second, a mere shimmer of time when the mind is without a home, no body to call its own. Existence is painless in there, nothing but formlessness beyond understanding. A secret place, it contains nothing but the essence of self, a lost self. In the fire of pain, Colton found a whisper of that place, its ghost, its echo, and from that echo he withdrew a thread of deepest black.

When my skin had gone back to its even tone I slept with another man and discovered, my hands lying awkwardly on the sheet at either side of me, that I had forgotten what to do with them. I'm responsible and an adult again, full time. What remains is that my sensation thermostat has been thrown out of whack; it's been years and sometimes I wonder whether my body will ever again register above lukewarm.

Who am I to deny my Master pleasure, simply because it is not at the hands of myself? He is free to do as he will, because of the life that he has given me. I am thankful for him, for the fact that out of all of us, I am the one that he chooses to keep and care for as his own.

Why do women love to read about sexually aggressive billionaire bad boy alpha males but condemn the same behavior in real life?

Why do you think there aren’t rules to how sex will work? You didn’t want to talk to me about what you wanted. You pushed me into the room so I wouldn’t turn on the light because you knew damn well I would push back on that, didn’t you?” She stayed where she was. “Yes. I don’t want you to see me. I don’t look like one of those girls in a magazine.” He groaned, the sound coming from deep in his chest. “Those girls in the magazines are airbrushed and way too thin. The camera adds pounds so those girls are so skinny I wouldn’t be able to fuck them for fear I would break them. I want a woman, Avery, not some tiny freaking thing whose waistline only proves she doesn’t eat. I want a woman who can take me. I want a woman I can hold on to. So bend over because I want to see your ass. I want to look at it because I’ve been dreaming about it for days. It’s hot and round and so fucking juicy I can’t stand it. Get me hot, Avery. Show me your ass.

Why do you want to keep this beauty for yourself? Why don’t you want to share it? The world is made of shared grace and harmony. Look at the sun shining, at the bees flying, the flowers blossoming. What would happen if they were ashamed like you are? No beauty would be revealed. We would live in an eternal shadow of what could exist.

Why will the Structure allow every other kind of sexual behavior but that one? Because submission and dominance are resources it needs for its very survival. They cannot be wasted in private sex. In any kind of sex. It needs our submission so that it can co-opt us into its own power game. There is no joy in it, only power. I tell you, if S and M could be established universally, at the family level, the State would wither away.

Yes, she fears the cuffs, the cross and the whip, but she will get past this. Such problems, even with time, do not go away on their own. They must be addressed. André Chevalier

Yeah, equal pay for equal work and our bodies ourselves and Gloria Steinem and all that jazz...but in that dusty dark little corner of every woman's heart where we keep our maps of Tierra del Fuego lives the hunger to fetch a powerful man his slippers on her hands and knees.

With you. I'll be with you.

You are something different – something some people find strange and fearful – but what you are is as natural as being male or female.

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.

You are so wet,” you enthuse. “See how much you love to be punished, little one?” “Yes, sir,” I whimper, physically fighting the urge to push myself back onto your finger. I want you inside me so much. I would beg if I thought you’d take pity on me, but I know you. My punishment is far from over yet…

You are the playground of which I have free reign.

You don’t speak again, unless to use your safe word or yellow to indicate you’re frightened.” “I was at yellow the minute I walked in the door.

You call the police if your car gets stolen. You don’t call them for anything that matters.

You can come round to my flat." Toreth's voice changed, sliding subtly into something hard-edged but seductive. "I don't need chains to make you do what I want. I don't need anything. I can take whatever I want from you, however I want it, and you can't stop me.

You’d better run, little bunny…before the big bad wolf catches you.

You do know you’re one of the hot ones, right? You could have any dom in this room if you looked marginally more approachable than an underfed piranha having a bad day.

You have a gorgeous ass, and it holds handprints beautifully.” Oh, well, how nice for me.

You have chastised me, demeaned me and dismantled me, before bringing me back to life. Who would have thought all of this was possible in a grotty cubicle of the men’s room? You hold me there for some time whilst we both catch our breath. Tentatively I raise one hand from the wall and claw at your dark, luscious hair behind me. I love these tender moments between us just as much as the kinky, depraved ones.

You have no idea what you have just unleashed, boy.

You continue to stare at me for a few seconds, assessing my face, before you lean even closer to me. Your lips graze against mine briefly… Just enough to reassure that you’re not truly upset with me, but are nonetheless quite prepared to have some fun at my expense, and punish me for my poor communication skills. Then you take a step back, leaving me flat against the wall, tensed and expectant.

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.

You, lass, have a self-image problem.” Well, that might be a little true, but she also had a mirror.

You’ll be stronger, Alayna, having explored the part of you that you’ve been afraid to know. I’ll have to stop if you tell me to, so you’ll actually hold the power, but you won’t tell me to stop. You’ll beg me not to, and when you leave here, you’ll believe you’re the gorgeous, sensual being I see in front of me.

You land a second strike, this time just on my left cheek. It feels hard already and stings like hell. I imagine the red mark it has left on my behind as I thank you. As the belt catches my right buttock, I squeeze my eyes shut. I know my tears are close. You strike me again and again. You vary the location and the intensity; somehow never letting me settle into a pattern with the pain. I try to keep count in mind, but after fifteen I am lost in the hot, stinging sensation of my behind.

...you make it sound like this is work. I’m having a hard time thinking about sex as a project to manage.” He barely touched the cheeks of her ass, just a little tickle on her flesh, and her muscles clenched. “Only because you don’t take it seriously.” “I take it very seriously,” she shot back. “No, you take the choice of your partner seriously, but not the sex itself. The sex itself you view as something you have to give up to get to what you really want, and that’s companionship and affection. You can’t buy those with sex, Avery. Those will come or not, and it doesn’t mean a damn thing to any man. Not really. He’ll take sex from you even if he doesn’t particularly like you. He’ll take it because you offer it up so easily. Again—not the relationship, but the sex. You’re offering me easy sex. Sex where I don’t have to work, but I want to work because I do like you and I do feel affection for you. Do you understand?” “You think I should ask for more.” “No, I think you should demand more.” “That doesn’t sound very submissive...

You look extra beautiful tonight, Ker.” “It’s the collar.” “Maybe. I think it’s the happiness. You wear it well.” “It’s the same thing.

You may get me to say the word, but know this, you will never truly own me. That right belongs to my real master. You may take his symbol off my hip, but there will always be a scar that reminds us both what was there. And you might take his collar off my throat, but you'll never erase his name from my soul.

You're giving me fucking consent to stalk you? Oh, slave...

You only get what you give away.

Your back looks so pretty with my name written on it in those beautiful little welts. If you continue to be a good boy, I'll kiss them all better when I'm done.

You're very lovely, gatita." Her brows pulled together, and she gave him a skeptical stare. "Do not look at your master as if he's an idiot.

Your ass belongs to me. I’ve suffered for it. I’ve loved you forever. I deserve it,” Danny went on, his voice a low mixture of anger and desire. “I don’t ever want you getting from another man what you can get from me. You hear me, Paul Guy, it’s mine.

You're going to get yourself f*&^ed so hard you'll forget your own name.

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.