I am excited to be a stop on the Book Bundle Blog Tour for Alison Tyler! I have had the privilege of reading her work before and she always delivers amazing stories that keep my eyes glued and my thighs clenched. Once again, Alison Tyler delivers pussy dripping erotica in this collection. In each of these five books, the characters are are bound, teased, and thoroughly sated.
Alison Tyler’s bondage trilogy includes Dark Secret Love, The Delicious Torment, and Wrapped Around Your Finger. These books follow Samantha, a sassy submissive, in her quest to find the perfect dom.
Excerpt from Wrapped Around Your Finger, Chapter Six: Light My Fire
I never smoked.
So when he saw me with that cigarette in hand he took the symbol to mean that I was messing with him. At least, that’s how he acted.
“Where did you get that?”
First words out of his lips.
I didn’t even try to inhale. “Found it.”
He laughed darkly, a 180-degree flip of the laugh he’d given me when I’d appeared as a French Maid. This was his don’t-lie-to-me laugh. I’d been hoping for some “Daddy’s gonna teach you not to smoke” scene, and what I’d walked into was, “Daddy’s gonna teach you not to go through his drawers,” which was something different entirely, let me tell you
“Give me that.”
I walked forward, so meek already, the cocky attitude disappearing in a breath. I handed over the cigarette and watched as Jack walked to the balcony and stubbed it out. I was already trembling. The events of this evening kept catching me off balance. I felt as if I didn’t know where I was, what I was doing.
“Now tell me,” Jack said, returning to the living room and sitting down on the sofa, so that I was standing in front of him like the naughty fucking schoolgirl I was dressed as. “What was going through your twisted mind when you grabbed that pack?”
“I thought…” I started.
“No,” he interrupted, “you weren’t thinking. If you’d been thinking, you wouldn’t have opened the drawer.”
“I mean,” I said, feeling the flush of heat creeping up my jaw. “I was trying to find something else. Something extra for the outfit.”
He nodded, as if he understood, but his face had that look I couldn’t read. Was he playing with me or was he actually upset? I could never tell. Didn’t matter though.
The results would be the same.
“Bend over the table,” he said now. The coffee table was low, and I had to kneel in order to obey, but I did so immediately, supremely grateful not to have to be looking at him anymore. His eyes were scaring me. That wasn’t a comforting feeling.
Jack didn’t move, and I didn’t speak. Time played with my head. I knew he was staring at me. I could feel his gaze on me. But I kept my face down, aware of the fear running through my body and the arousal building by the second. I would not fail again. I would wait, no matter how long he took, for his next instruction.
Finally, Jack stood, and relief made me sigh. Relief that didn’t actually materialize. I’d thought he would unbuckle his belt, but Jack headed to the bedroom instead. I heard his footsteps, heard the sound of his cabinet opening, but kept my head down. I would behave, I told myself. In spite of being dressed as the most insolent schoolgirl of all time.
I would make Jack proud.
When Jack returned, I didn’t look up to see what implement he’d chosen. I kept my eyes lowered, trying to show him with my attitude that I was learning, that I was submissive and humble and…
Jack would have none of that. “Kiss it,” he said, brandishing the paddle in front of me.
Jack had chosen the one with the studs, and I had to muster pure courage to raise up and press my glossy lips to the hateful thing.
“What are you being spanked for?” Jack asked next, and my shoulders sagged. I wanted him to simply spank me. I hated lectures or being asked to name my sins. I understood that this was why Jack insisted on this part of the scene. Still, I didn’t even try to get away with, “Because I was smoking.” We both knew I’d gone way beyond that lie.
“I went through your drawers.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I shouldn’t have done that without your permission.”
“Right again,” Jack said.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” I actually glanced up at him this time, and he gave me a little half smile, as if he couldn’t help himself. I must have looked so fucking pathetic.
“No,” he said, as I’d known he would. It was almost a ritual between us, the words he said next. “No, you’re not sorry. Not yet. But you will be.”
He started by spanking me against the plaid pleated skirt. The pain was muffled, and Jack knew this. I think he was giving me a moment to gather my thoughts, to steal my emotions.
He raised my skirt after only a few blows, smacking the paddle on top of my panties. I always managed to forget how much this particular paddle could hurt. I drew in my breath, trying to find a way to deal with the sensation, but Jack was working too quickly. Slapping the paddle repeatedly from one cheek to the other, then covering both with the full length of the mean thing. I white-knuckled the edge of the table to keep myself steady. I didn’t want to make a mistake and try to cover my already smarting ass with my hands, didn’t want to irk Jack any more than I already had unintentionally. I didn’t even want to think about what would happen if I failed again.
The Big Book of Bondage: Sexy Tales of Erotic Restraint
Edited by: Alison Tyler
The stories included in The Big Book of Bondage are “Commuter Training” by Teresa Noelle Roberts, “Small Mercies” by Rita Winchester, “The Naughty Chair” by Donna George Storey, “Eleven O’Clock Deadline” by Thomas S. Roche, “Prey” by Madeline Elayne, “In Charge” by ADR Forte, “Too Strong to Break” by Sophia Valenti, “Filthy Rich” by Shanna Germain, “Life Drawing” by Vida Bailey, “Cute Boy Gets Squeezed” by D.L. King, “On the Rocks” by Heidi Champa, “”Golf” Spelled Backwards” by Andrea Dale, “Eye Contact” by Derek McDaniel, “Double Dutch” by Giselle Renarde, “Senseless” by Stella Harris, “Just Deserts” by Kiki DeLovely, “Balancing the Books” by Lucy Felthouse, “Meltdown” by Jax Baynard, “You Say This Is a Testament” by Maria See, “River of Beauty” by Sharon Wachsler, “When My Boyfriend Has a Party” by Devin Phillips, “Butter the Bird” by Somer Marsden, “The Bondage Pig” by Kristina Lloyd, “Curry, Extra Hot” by N.T. Morley, and “Burned” by Alison Tyler.
Excerpt from “The Naughty Chair” by Donna George Storey, part of the anthology The Big Book of Bondage edited by Alison Tyler
“Not here, Zach.”
Smiling mischievously, he bent over and planted a kiss on her brown curls, right above her clit.
She let out a squeal and tried to get up off the chair. While the idea of someone watching made her belly clench with dark pleasure, she’d never been as bold in her actions as in her fantasies.
“Give me two minutes, Jillian. If you don’t want me to continue after that, I’ll stop.”
She nodded. Yet no sooner had he lavished one long, slow lick along her cleft than she instinctively put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away.
“Naughty girl. This time I want you to hold on to the edges of the chair. Tightly. So you won’t sabotage my efforts.”
To her own surprise, Jillian obeyed, curling her fingers around the cool, oaken edges of the chair seat.
Zach made no move to continue. He seemed to be enjoying the view.
“Look, you’re so excited, you’ve already made my robe damp,” he murmured.
She let out a soft “oh” of embarrassment as her right hand reflexively moved to cover herself.
Clicking his tongue, Zach grabbed her wrist and moved her hand back to the edge of the chair. “One more slipup and I’m going out to my car to get some rope to tie your hands to this damned chair.”
Jillian’s body jerked as if she’d been slapped. Yet the image of Josh marching back into the apartment with a coil of golden rope made her cheeks flame and her vagina flutter.
“But you won’t make me do that, will you, Jillian? You’re going to be a very good girl and cooperate. Because you know you want this.”
Jillian squirmed, but she dutifully kept her hands clenched around the edges of the chair. She wasn’t quite sure how he got the idea she wanted him to eat her pussy in front of the window, but his game was arousing her intensely. Her breasts were flushed, her belly churned with lust and her clit was impossibly stiff, as if it were preening before his gaze like a tiny cock.
“You do want it, don’t you, Jillian?”
She whimpered and bit her lip.
Hot breath tickled her thighs. Then a gentle hiss of air caressed her vulva.
“Good girl. You’re showing them you want it. All the people looking in at us through the window with their binoculars. Now, if I did tie you to the chair, they might think I was forcing you. But this is voluntary bondage. One woman’s struggle between her desire and her inhibition. It’s really something to watch. I wonder which side will win?”
His low, insinuating voice made sweat rise all over Jillian’s body. Strange how these words alone could inflame her desire, creating an obscene picture of voyeuristic neighbors across the alley—a gray-templed man in a Hawaiian shirt, a housewife still glowing from her weekend morning yoga class—studying her wanton sexual display through big, sporty binoculars, their own hands creeping between their legs.
Zach started in again, flicking her clit with lazy, catlike motions. At first, she was still able to worry— faintly—that someone could actually see them. As he picked up the tempo, pleasure overtook caution. The pressure on her hands set her arms tingling with the strain. Gradually the sensation moved into her chest, her torso, swirling down to meet the thrumming pleasure of his mouth on her sweet spot. With each breath the feeling grew, until her whole body was like a buzzing clit. She felt the telltale pressure of an orgasm deep in her core, but she didn’t want to come yet. This taut, raw feeling was too delicious.
Still, it took all the willpower she had to pry her hand from the chair and touch his shoulder.
He pulled back, smacking his lips. “Had enough?”
“No, I didn’t mean stop…” She faltered.
“Tell me you want it, Jillian.”
Why was this so difficult? After all, it was just a few simple words. She’d already done worse, exposing herself to any stranger with a view of the window. “I want it,” she said softly.
“Even with the whole neighborhood watching?” he teased.
Jillian’s throat tightened. This was still the shame for her—and the thrill.
“I…want them to see me come,” she choked out.
“Right, then. Let’s give them a good show.”
Twisted: Bondage with an Edge
Edited by: Alison Tyler
The stories included in Twisted are “Tie Me Up” by Andrea Dale, “Foundation Stone” by Jax Baynard, “Love to Hate” by Molly Moore, “Dry Spell” by Kristina Lloyd, “The Customer’s Waiting” by Giselle Renarde, “Bound by Sight” by J. Sinclaire, “A Keeper” by Sommer Marsden, “Bondage Blogging” by Meadow Parker, “The Saturday Pet” by N.T. Morley, “Wilderness Test” by Veronica Wilde, “Be There with Bells On” by Joan Defers, “Demica” by Tahira Iqbal, “Jacob’s Note” by Derek McDaniel, “Any Lightness between Black and White” by Dante Davidson, “Stag Beetle” by Sacchi Green, “Hands Down” by Rachel Kramer Bussel, “Sylvia’s Transgression” by Tamsin Flowers, “Body Temperature” by Thomas S. Roche, “Camwhore” by Auburn Sanders, “Twisted Realities” by Kiki DeLovely, “Rope Drought” by Teresa Noelle Roberts, “Justice” by Sadey Quinn, “Darkness and Light” by Sophia Valenti, “Broken” by Alison Tyler, and “Tie Me Down” by Dan Grogan.
Excerpt from “Body Temperature” by Thomas S. Roche, part of the anthology Twisted edited by Alison Tyler
We’ve got the windows open, fans blaring in the windows on high, but nothing helps. It’s ten o’clock at night and just as hot outside as inside. Maybe at 3:00 a.m. Aisha or I will stand in
front of one of the fans and make a soft sad sound of fleeting relief. But for now, every cubic inch of air within blowing distance is body temperature or hotter.
She’s got pillows under her back, about six of them, which raise her frame to a forty-five-degree angle and give me the perfect canvas to work on. She’s tightly tied, now, wrists to headboard, ankles to footboard, knees and thighs to the side rail and tits bound tight, distended painfully. Aisha has perfect breasts, the ideal size for her frame if you ask me, and frankly, she knows it. She loves it when they get attention, but nipple clamps and Tiger Balm only go so far—especially when every material or substance on her body makes her scowl.
And yet I’ve wrapped her in rope in a half-dozen places, the hemp rope like blankets. And I’ll admit I’m getting off on making her suffer in the heat a little just to get her bondage fix. Her flesh is a vibrant pink, her face beginning to glisten. The scavenged yard thermometer in the living room says ninety-eight degrees—body temperature. But I’m certainly not telling her that.
She’s sweating, panting slightly; I can tell it’s from a combination of temperature and arousal. The bondage is turning her on, all right, but she’s fighting with the heat—the way she fights with it every minute of every day this time of year. She squirms a bit, fights against the bonds while I caress her; my fingers go up in her and I find out she’s even more aroused than I thought she was.
“Close your eyes.”
I have to say, “Keep ’em closed!” twice as I slide my fingers out of her, then kneel down beside the bed and open the cooler. If she recognizes the sound, she doesn’t show it. I tell her again to keep her eyes closed as I get what I want and bring it back to bed.
She’s really glistening now, covered. She smells fresh from the shower, but slightly musky from the heat. The scent of her pussy mingles with sweat. It’s a wonder I can smell her over the unpleasant mingling of the tight, close, stale air of our apartment with the city stink from outside the window.
I set the plastic bowl on the nightstand and stand to the side as I blindfold her.
The blindfold was fresh and firm from twenty minutes in the freezer when I put it in the cooler as she showered. Now it’s slightly less ready, but still cold as hell.
The blindfold may have softened since it left the freezer, but in contrast to the air in the bedroom, it feels freezing—I can tell. By the time she opens her eyes in surprise, I’ve got the elastic around her. Her shoulders tip down, the small of her back up. Her ass leaves the sweat-soaked sheets. The ropes go taut. She wiggles.
I fetch an ice cube from the bowl on the nightstand.
I press the ice tight to the hot-pink side of her neck. I await that sound of scared surprise that I crave. She gives it to me— the gasp and the curse that says You’ve blown my mind, baby. It’s followed by a pleasurable murmur, and she tips her head and presses her neck against the ice as I rub it all over her. If she had the faintest clue what was coming, she doesn’t show it. It seemed like an obvious tactic to me; why I haven’t thought about it before is utterly beyond me. But then, we both tend to lose brain function when the mercury hits these levels.
I stuff an ice cube in her mouth. Aisha sucks on it, crunches it up with her teeth. She chews and sucks and moans softly while I fuck her harder with my fingers. I’ve reached over and retrieved another ice cube by now. This one makes its way across the exposed portions of her tightly bound tits. When it hits her nipples, Aisha curses, grits her teeth. I linger there. She shakes her head back and forth, coal black hair dancing. Some plasters itself to her shoulders; I peel it away and brush it back. I ice each hard nipple in slow, tight circles and feel the pink buds harden. I zero in on one and plant my hand over her breast, ice cube in the hollow of my palm, until I have to grit my teeth, too. By then, she’s pulling a Stevie Wonder, mouth dropped open and curses coming out. She can barely stand it. Her vocalizations go from curses and pleasured sounds to a high-pitched squeal of panic; then I palm the ice and shove it into her mouth.
There’s not much left. She crunches. Impatient little slut.
I seize two cubes of ice. I kneel between Aisha’s legs, acutely aware that I’m so overheated myself that I’m dripping sweat all over her. But this time she doesn’t complain—at least, not about that. I run one ice cube delicately from her neck to her face, over her forehead, down the other side of her neck and across her collarbone to the tit I haven’t abused yet. Its nipple’s hard and sensitive already, stiffened in sympathy for the other. I circle it with the ice; when Aisha seems about to scream, I circle wider and let the melting cube orbit her breast at an altitude of maybe two inches.
About the Author/Editor:
Alison Tyler has made being naughty a full-time job. Her sultry short stories appear in more than 100 anthologies, and she is a prolific editor of bestselling erotic anthologies like Twisted, Bound for Trouble, andThe Big Book of Bondage. In all things important, she remains faithful to her husband of 15 years, but she still can’t choose just one perfume. Find her at alisontyler.com and alisontyler.blogspot.com
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A copy of Dark Secret Love, The Delicious Torment, Wrapped Around Your Finger, The Big Book of Bondage, and Twisted were provided to me free of charge in exchange for an unbiased review. This is in compliance with FTC guidelines.