Best 414 quotes in «bdsm quotes» category

Grip had been hungry ever since the first youthful spots on his sheets. Wanting to try what others only fantasized about, finding his way to the fearless ones who laughed back, the ones who also wanted it. Games with new positions had started before the end of adolescence. Later: bruises, leather straps, and candles—anything that excited—on airplanes, in hotel elevators with the emergency stop button pushed.

Have you gone crazy?" "Have you gone crazy, Master.

He brought his lips and hot breath close to her ear. “And once I have you bound and helpless, how should I take you? Missionary? From behind? Against the wall?” He pulled back to face her. “Or all ways?” She inched her legs further apart, and nodded.

He caught her staring and smiled-not a conceited I-work-out-and-have-a-great-body type smirk, but more of a I’m-a-boy; you’re-a-girl; life is good.

He could kiss her, or he could bite her. Both possibilities were equally tempting.

Heck, that woman out there looked like she was getting more from one kiss than Jessica had ever gotten from the whole insert-dick-move-around shebang.

He'd seen when she began to panic, but he hadn't offered comfort like other Doms or changed his plans. He'd just waited her out. She could hate him a little for that.

He drank in her misery like fine wine, savoring every drop, letting it soothe his mind, his tension flowing out the fingertips that held the paddle.

He'd never sought to mark a woman's flesh these shades of indigo and violet for pleasure.

He is like ice cream without the calories or whiskey without the hangover. He's a drug. My drug.

He lashed the belt against my ass again, and I was starting to feel like I was some supernatural being that was more than he was. He was just human, but I felt like something from heaven, an angel from the stars, that had come down to grace him with my presence. How beautiful lust is, when it makes you feel this way. Have you felt this yourself, do you know what I mean?

He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks slowly into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist. I suppress my moan. "This is mine," he whispers aggressively. "All mine. Do you understand?" He eases his finger in and out as he gazes down at me, gauging my reaction, his eyes burning. "Yes, yours,

He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks slowly into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist. “This is mine,” he whispers aggressively. “All mine. Do you understand?” He eases his finger in and out as he gazes down at me, gauging my reaction, his eyes burning. “Yes, yours…” Abruptly, he moves, doing several things at once: Withdrawing his fingers, leaving me wanting, unzipping his fly, and pushing me down onto the couch so he’s lying on top of me. “Hands on your head,” he commands through gritted teeth as he kneels up, forcing my legs wider… “We don’t have long. This will be quick, and it’s for me, not you. Do you understand? Don’t come, or I will spank you,” he says through clenched teeth.

He places one of his long fingers over my lips, silencing me. I can smell my own musky arousal on his digit and I have the strongest urge to take it in my mouth and suck it as I did earlier during my audition. He says nothing but drills into me with those dazzling eyes. I have the strangest feeling that he is looking into my soul. “Let us see where the wave takes us. I know I am going to enjoy the ride and I can guarantee our mutual satisfaction. Maybe we’ll be washed to shore, I just don’t know yet, but you can be certain of one thing…” I gaze up at him from his chest, breathing in the scent of his masculinity as I do. “What’s that, sir?” I ask, my voice betraying the curiosity I feel. He looks down at me for a long, hard moment before he answers. “I won’t let you drown.

He pulled my head back further, and I could hear his ragged breathing as his mouth came close to my ear, sounding so desperate for me. God, I was turned on so much…

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.

He pointed at the paper. “I want you to write me a description of every foot you’ve put wrong since we met. Make sure I can read your writing. You have five minutes.” Write about every foot I’d put wrong. I peered down at my feet. I started to write: My left foot is a size eight point five. It has a high arch, and my big toe is longer than my second toe. There is a light smattering of hair on the top of my foot. I paused and stuck my left leg out, studying my shoe. Right now I am wearing Nike Frees for m— “Bring me your paper.” I glanced at my paper. “I’m not done yet.” “One . . . two . . .” I brought him the paper.

Her back bows over the kitchen island, our empty plates rattling with the thrust of my hand. Two orgasms later, she stumbles into the living room to work on her homework, argument forgotten.

He reached out and ran his thumb over her bottom lip again and then slipped it inside her mouth. Eva froze, feeling the tip of his digit hook over her bottom teeth.

Here,” I said, shoving the board into his hands. He started laughing. “WHAT are you laughing at?!” I demanded irritably. “Well, it’s just that… that’s going to hurt a bit, my dear. Go on, bend over. I’ll demonstrate.

Her voice was a sensual, confiding whisper, and he clung to ever rapturous word. "You take the grenade, I'll take the pin.

Her good eye, though bloodshot and tired, gleamed with mischief. He saw through the bruises adorning her. She was beautiful and conniving. “Are you asking me to run away with you?” She intertwined her bandaged fingers with his the same way she had at the club. He felt control of the situation transferring into her hands as it had then.

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.

Her intensity often surprises and mystifies the people within the Warrior Princess Submissive's circle of associates. They will occasionally forget how deeply she feels and believes in her causes and, as a result, suddenly find themselves being pummeled in a debate that they hadn't expected, nor wanted.

He smiled. A sub shouldn’t be terrified, but a little anxiety was good.

He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her into him with an unyielding strength. She’d been unmistakably seized.

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.

He spanks me again, and again, and again. I lose count after ten strikes, too consumed with the aching sensation spreading across the lower half of my torso. Eventually, I hear myself gasp and moan at each strike, the sting intensifying as my flesh warms with every blow.

He’s a steamroller in my life and I like to be laid out flat. I like his hands on my chest, pushing me down whenever my back turns to the span of a bridge. His hands on my thighs, forcing me flat, flat, flat. Yes. Yes, I like that.

He was a predator - a big, scary, hot-looking predator. And I wanted to be his prey.

He was an animal. He'd drawn blood and now he needed to fuck, to cover her with his scent, to tell the world, She is mine. Stay away.

He wondered what she would taste of — fantasized about how gunpowder and scorched earth would weigh on his tongue.

His chestnut hair was wild and haphazard, its cut imperfect, just as it had been when he was human — in a century when bladed scissors were below warlords such as Luca cel Rau, who would’ve used his boot dagger instead.

His pleasure is my pleasure.

His last thought flashed like a mantra over and over again. Let the challenge begin.

His tongue fucks my mouth the way his cock fills my pussy. Deeply, urgently, and completely unrestrained.

Hmmm,” you muse out loud. Your voice is deep and carnal, a sound which sends new surges of desire rushing to my sex. “These balls are awfully dusty - if only I knew a little slut who was good at polishing balls…

His look darkens and he heaves me against his chest forcing me to look at him. “What I do know is that you are disrespectful and disobedient. And that is something that we have to change, don’t we?

His voice goads me and then I register the perfect rhythm he is creating in my tightly wound body. One, two, and then three fingers fill me, his hand rocking flawlessly against my quivering clitoris as he fucks me. Slowly at first and then the tempo increases as Shaw builds the pace. Before I know it I am panting as the sensations consume me. Eyes shut tight, I feel myself grinding against what feels like the palm of his hand or maybe his wrist, loving the friction it creates as Shaw penetrates me over and over again.

Honey, letting us isn’t the issue. You either cooperate and get it done, or don’t-and still get it done.

I am such a bad girl," she thought. Yet...

How you felt?" he asks, still looking like he's trying to hide a smirk. "Oh, shut up. I'm going now. I'm sorry I bothered you, your Highness of Reindeerness," I say, with more than a little sarcasm. "I promise not to ever disturb you again.

I am pleased," he said with a rich throaty accent. My heart melted. Simple as they were, those three little words meant the world to me.

How are you enjoying the holidays so far?” “I never thought Christmas could be like this.” “You mean kinky?” “I mean honest and happy.

Hope that doesn’t hurt too much

How many spanks have you had, Julia?” Damien asked. “Two, Sir.” “What colour are you on?” “Mortification,” she mumbled.

Humans are prey — the lesser species.

I could feel his whole body trying to claim me, want me, own me in lust, and it made me feel so valuable and wanted. As I was bent over the table, I felt like I was the world to him, and he could think of nothing else, could feel nothing else: he was consumed with my body, dedicated to exploring my female sexual power and energy, and his desperate hitting of me with the belt felt like he would rather die, than be without the chance to connect with me in sex.

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 concentrate intently on counting: hearing my voice break as the torment and torture builds; fingering myself intensely at his instruction. As we get past ten I slip up; overwhelmed by the sensations wracking my body, I realise in horror that I don’t know which number is next.