Best Bondage Erotica 2013

Table of Contents

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is truth in this book.

It's not a truth that most of our culture is comfortable with, but it is truth nonetheless. Personally, I think it's an important truth. I've dedicated a significant portion of my life to it.

In case you're wondering: it's not about the bondage.

There's a lot of that here. There are bandannas, leather cuffs, plastic wrap, several varieties of rope, bungee cords, even a form of bondage and torture I've never even imagined. And that's saying something.

The bondage is not the point. If this were just a book about taking away the ability to move, it could just be used as masturbatory fodder and set aside. Cultural critics could safely label it “porn” and consign it to the sargasso of unworthy literature.

It's the other bonds in this book that make it more than porn.
The bonds of marriage. The ties of duty and the prison of horrific memories associated with military service. The burden of years wearing down relationships, the tight restriction of repressed desires. You find all of these in the book, and it is the mixture of them with the hot bondage that makes the keepers of the cultural status quo squirm.

There are many ways people deal with these unpleasant realities of Western culture, from psychotherapy to extreme sports to watching reality TV shows. Some of these work well for a lot of people. Some need something different. They deal with the oppressions of life by giving them substance. A scarf tied around a wrist, a corset constricting the breath, the illusion or the physical reality of what they already feel:
I can't escape. There's nowhere to go.

That makes Americans, especially, uncomfortable.
Never surrender! Empowered, not helpless!
The victim is never admired. Our mythos is all about overcoming limitations. Some plucky heroine or clever hero finds a way through any problem and within the hour or two of the dramatic arc, things will all end up all right. We are ingrained with the responsibility to be that person, and if we're not, we have failed.

This makes a situation where there are no choices left very seductive. It's a fantasy of enforced trust, no options save surrender, where there is no longer any need to weigh the factors or question your motives or do anything except experience what is happening.

Bondage is just a container for experience. A lot of things can happen within the parentheses of it going on and coming off. A physical ordeal, proof that the bound can survive pain and depredation and pleasure. A luxurious womblike security of being cared for, valued, caressed and treasured while helpless. It can be a sacred ritual, sex magic, personal catharsis, a cathedral
of straining muscles and futile effort. Try as hard as you can to escape and either feel the triumph of success or the solace of futility and the sweet release from trying. It is the exhilaration of defeat. It is the joyous honor of surrender.

Within these stories you'll find another aspect of the human psyche that people try to ignore, what Jung would have called the “shadow.” For everyone who is bound, there is someone doing the binding, someone who is being asked to forego the niceties of polite society and take away freedom. Within the parenthetical rituals of fastening and loosening, more is asked—to administer pain, to use words or deeds to humiliate, use, and hurt (but not harm) their willing subject. They have to go, as one author put it between these pages, “to that dark place.” If you can, as you read these stories, spare a thought for how traveling through these dark places where the shadows lie changes the guide as much as the guided.

When a knot tightens, a buckle latches, it is a connection of trust and consent at a base level.
Before, you could. Now, you cannot.
It is an essential change of state, an exchange of power more direct than office politics or passive-aggressive relationship games. That clarity is refreshing. There is no ambivalence to it. There is relationship, mutual vulnerability, intimacy, for a short time or for a lifetime.

That is the truth of these pages. People choose bondage—whether in real life or only in their erotica—because through it they find freedom. They find a place where their shadow can be nurtured, where they can rest or struggle, as their need demands. They find connection with each other and with the hidden parts of themselves.

Sure, it's hot. The stories in this volume are fantasies, even those that are based on reality. They will make you hard, make you wet, make that part of your lizard-brain in the back of your
head stir restlessly and make growly noises. That's more than just your gonads and fantasies, though.

That's truth. Fight against it all you want, it's no less true. Eventually, you'll surrender to it, or be overcome by it.

That's when the fun begins.

One of the main things I look for when editing the
Best Bondage Erotica
series is variety. I want a mix of types of people being tied up, a range of implements used to bind, a diverse setting for these kinky scenarios. This year, I got all that and more—much more.

I was especially pleased to see that several authors threw open the bedroom door and took their kinky play outside. In “The Great Outdoors,” “Wheelbarrow Position” and “Tree Hugger,” you'll find some very creative bondage that borders on exhibitionism, as well as full-on exhibitionism in “A Public Spectacle.” The excitement of being exposed, of baring your body to the elements and not being able to escape should someone walk by, is expounded on with kinky delight in these tales.

The variety doesn't end there. There are newcomers, whether to bondage or specific types of bondage play, from shibari to a simple rope harness, plastic wrap to handcuffs to a chastity tube. There are sex toys, all manner of them, from a special
pink ribbon to a Hitachi Magic Wand, and they come into play in ways that will surprise and delight you, but what I'm most thrilled about with this collection is what the men and women feel once they are tied up, bound, restrained, at someone else's mercy. Here's a sampling:

These characters find themselves appreciating even the discomfort of bondage, trading their autonomy for something greater, something that sets them free—from convention, from daily life, from their usual roles. It's that freedom to exult, strut, mouth off and give and take pleasure that I hope comes across the strongest in these pages. For while these stories take place in a variety of settings, using all sorts of implements and household items, what they have in common is desire, curiosity and a willingness to pursue them, even when you're not sure where
the journey will take you. I hope dedicated bondage fans, newcomers and those of you who share that curiosity about the thrills of being tied to a tree or a chair or a bed, will keep this book handy and be inspired to dream up, and live out, your own fantasies.

 

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

 

 

 

 

 

“I know I say this every year, but I'm going to enroll in a class.”

I didn't need to look up from my computer screen to gauge Justine's reaction. I knew she'd be rolling her eyes in a sarcastic
whatever
gesture. When the local further education college published its prospectus for the coming year, I always studied it intently, convinced this would be the year I did something to broaden my mind. But even though the college offered evening classes in everything from pottery to car maintenance to conversational Greek, nothing appealed. That was why I'd chosen to look farther afield.

“Honestly, Mike, I'll believe it when I see it.” Justine rose from the sofa. “Cup of tea?”

“That would be great, thanks, and when you come back, let me show you exactly what I have in mind.”

The expression on Justine's face when she placed my mug down on the table beside me was priceless. Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't this web page, with its eye-catching
photograph of an Asian woman suspended in an intricate web of thick, white ropes.

“Shibari for Beginners.” Justine read the words out loud. “Mike, what is this exactly?”

“Japanese rope bondage. Isn't it amazing? This is the website of a guy who calls himself Master Ty. He's supposed to be the leading expert of the art in the country, and he's taking bookings for a couple of workshops at the moment. D'you fancy it?”

She considered the photograph, taking in every detail of the model in her rope-work cocoon, no doubt wondering how it would feel to be helplessly bound in such a fashion. Willing as she was to step beyond the vanilla, I knew Justine had strongly defined limits, and for a moment I thought she wouldn't go for it. Then she said, “Why not? You're always saying we should try something new. Who knows, it could be fun.”

“Great. I'll see what dates he has available.”

I didn't click on the link to contact Master Ty straight away. There were more photos of the same model in his gallery, and I spent time looking at every one of them. In my mind, it was Justine whose limbs were bound in increasingly tortuous poses, Justine whose face held an expression somewhere between anguish and the purest ecstasy as she hung in willing suspension. Under the bed, I kept a well-thumbed stash of bondage magazines, acquired when I'd first realized quite how turned on I got by the thought of tying a girl up. I'd read and reread them so many times some of the pages had all but fallen out, but I couldn't bring myself to throw them away. They'd formed my ideas of how a girl in bondage should look and behave, and I still felt myself growing hard whenever I read stories about hog-tying a rebellious brat into submission. But as I admired the intricacy of the shibari bindings, I found in them a mystery I longed to explore. In comparison, a simple hog-tie seemed
somehow old-fashioned and functional, effective as it might be.