Submission: Erotica for Women
Edited by: Alex Algren
Published by: Cleis Press (2014)
The Submission Blog Tour is going on to celebrate Alex Algren’s new book, Submission: Erotica for Women. This is an exclusive e-book collection of six kinky stories, bringing you into the world of submission. I really enjoyed the book and am excited that Omni Lust gets to participate in the tour.
I was drawn in immediately when Alex Algren described submission as “an art form” in the introduction. “Your body becomes a canvas upon which your master paints his every desire …” says Algren. His words created a great visual in my mind and their effect reached down between my thighs. The focus of the stories is on the pleasure and excitement the women get from surrendering themselves completely. As much as I don’t like taking orders, I like to give complete control to someone else in the bedroom.
According to the title, this book is for women (straight women that is). Each story features a female submissive and male dominant. I would have loved to see some female dominants too.
The stories included in Submission: Erotica for Women are “Truss Issues” by Lux Zakari, “The Art of Darkness” by Alison Tyler, “Reclaiming” by Teresa Noelle Roberts, “I Breathe Your Name” by Tess Danesi, “The Weight” by Rachel Kramer Bussel, and “A Necessary Correction” by Debra Hyde.
Exclusive Excerpt from “Truss Issues” by Lux Zakari:
After dinner and a walk around the illuminated city, they arrived at Emy’s building, a multifloor, white-brick affair stretching upward and disappearing into the dusky film of clouds overhead. She gave her date a wink. “Come up for a nightcap?”
“How can I refuse?” He opened the silver-handled door and placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her gently through the entranceway. Her heels pricked the silence of the lobby as they crossed to the elevator, which slid open with a ding as soon as Samir pressed the button. They leaned against the mirrored wall as the doors closed, and the elevator gave a start as it ascended. A silence thick with anticipation hung between them, their conversation from earlier resonating through Emy like a struck tuning fork. She forced her attention on the climbing floor numbers. Two, three, four… She suddenly regretted living on the twentieth floor.
“Nervous?” He watched her with a contented, bemused smile, the kind a predator might wear as it toyed with its prey, biding its time.
“Why would I be nervous?” Part of her hoped he would actually know the answer.
“Because you know when we get to your apartment, I’m tying you up.”
She drew in a swift breath and pursed her lips, trying to will the warring feelings of both fear and sexual thrill away. “Is that what you think?”
“No.” Unabashed, his gaze swept over her body. “It is what I know.”
“Someone’s crystal ball has a crack in it.” She frosted her tone as she again attempted to concentrate on the rising numbers, hoping he wouldn’t notice how the intensity of his words affected her. Fourteen, fifteen…
He breathed a laugh. “If you say so.”
They again lapsed into a silence, and just when Emy thought she couldn’t take it anymore, the doors opened and she forced herself not to flee from the mirror-and-chrome cubicle clogged with sexual tension. Instead, she kept her chin high and back straight as she strode toward her apartment and slid her key in the lock. Once the door swung open, she gestured Samir inside with a sweep of her arms in a way that would make Vanna White proud. He gave a gentlemanly nod of his head in response as he forged ahead into the dark living space.
Emy followed him, tossing her key ring in the direction of a nearby table and missing completely. “Can you get the light?”
Her answer came in the form of Samir kicking the door shut and walking her backward until her shoulder blades pressed against the painted wood. “I could, but what fun would that be?” His lips trailed a path from her earlobe down her neck, then to her collarbone, as his body pushed against hers.
The darkness hid her smile. “You have a point.” She tilted her head, giving him unbarred access to the sensitive skin of her throat, and her knees weakened at the feel of his cock against her thigh, nudging her through the fabric of their clothes.
Samir’s kisses moved to her mouth and her lips parted, allowing his tongue to sweep against hers and leaving her lightheaded. Her legs parted, granting him permission to slide his hands up her thighs, touch her in a place most of her exes didn’t get to explore until after several months, let alone weeks. She wondered what it was about Samir that permitted her to feel so wanton, uninhibited, unafraid, so much so that she’d slept with him after the first date. Where had the usual guarded feeling gone?
His teeth nipped at her lips, drawing a moan from her as he pinned her to the door using the strength of his legs. Her clit throbbed in anticipation as her dress skirted up her thighs and he slowly tugged her panties down until they puddled around her knees. Her breath hitched as her heart hammered away. She felt her whole body buzzing, awaiting his explorative touch.
Instead, his kisses grew slower, indolent, and his fingers rose, curling around her wrists and raising them over her head. A jolt ripped through her as she realized what a captive position she was in. “Emy,” he murmured against her mouth, “I want to tie you up.”
“I already told you. I’m not into that.” To her surprise, her body didn’t sync up to her beliefs. She felt a warm liquid rush flood her cunt.
“Is that so?” Samir captured both her wrists in one hand, his grasp firm, gentle and easily escapable—she didn’t understand why she didn’t break away. His other hand moved between her legs, eliciting from her a gasp as his finger dipped inside her weeping cunt. “It feels like you’re into it. Admit it. You’re turned on.”
Cursing her body for its betrayal, Emy nestled her teeth in her lower lip and forced her breathing to remain calm, to not come out as a needy whimper.
“Just your wrists.” He punctuated the sentence with a lingering kiss. “I’ll use my tie. You can slip free whenever you want to, or I’ll untie you whenever you say.” His tongue teased her, darting in and out of her mouth and mimicking the light, feathery motions of his finger, still flickering over her cunt. “Just think. You, with your hands bound behind your back, and me, licking you until you come.”
The air building in Emy’s lungs left in a groan as she pictured Samir’s tongue in place of his finger. The visual he’d described—even her, trussed up—was too good to deny. She drew away from his kiss and gave him a brief, nervous nod. “Okay.” She swallowed, her mouth dry, and looked between them at his hand between her legs, fighting off another moan. “But hurry.”
Samir drew away from her and her panties completed their journey to the floor. She’d just enough time to kick them aside before he’d turned her around, her breasts against the door. Emy could feel his cock, thick and hard, nudging her skin as he ground against her backside, working at the knot of his tie with one hand while his other snaked around her body to pop free the buttons on her shirt. She felt grateful for the door and Samir—they were the only things keeping her upright at this point.
Emy sucked in a gulp of air as he collected her wrists at the small of her back and looped the thin, silky strip of fabric around them, linking them with a loose knot. She squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing whether to moan with pleasure or cry out in fright.
Samir turned her again, slanting his mouth over hers, and he placed his hands on her waist and took a few steps backward, guiding their path into the unlit living room and directing her into an armchair. She sank into a sitting position with some trepidation, her hands trapped between the cushioned seat and her spine. The words untie me were on her tongue until her gaze met Samir’s. In the weak moonlight beaming through the half-closed blinds and casting bars of light over his face, she could see his dark eyes, watching her with a hunger that made her whole body swell. Stunned, she realized from his look that despite her bound situation, she felt very much in control and felt powerful at having a man look at her in such a way. The thrill caused her legs to part, granting him an unobstructed view. She enjoyed the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in response.
He lowered himself to his knees and parted her open shirt, revealing her breasts encased in lace. Knowing she couldn’t touch him in return sent another ripple of bliss through Emy and she licked her dry lips, her fingers turning to fists behind her back. Samir cupped both her breasts in his hands, kneading the globes gently until her puckered nipples leapt from the bunching, delicate fabric. With one hand still circling her left breast, his mouth descended upon her right, trapping one of the rosy nubs and lapping at it with his tongue.
Emy’s head dropped backward and she didn’t bother to fight off the moan that had been building inside her for what seemed like the entire evening. Samir gave a soft groan in response to the noise, a sound increasing her pleasure. Realizing he enjoyed this moment— this unfamiliar experience—as much as she did dampened her aching cunt further. His mouth left her breast on a journey down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her belly button as his hands slid down the sides of her torso. She watched from beneath heavy lids how he observed her body like a man enthralled and on the verge of losing control. His worshipful expression blurred the distinction of who was the submissive one. She’d never felt more in control in her life. Her fear evaporated, replaced by pure desire.
Samir took a deep, trembling breath as he gently pushed her skirt up around her waist, completely exposing her. They both watched as his hands smoothed down then up her inner thighs and he traced the outline of her dripping cunt, eliciting from her a high-pitched sigh. He rubbed a slow, teasing circle over her clit with a wet fingertip, bringing about more gasps and breathy urges for him to continue before replacing his finger with his tongue. Emy squeezed her eyes shut, straining against her loose binds as she cried out toward the ceiling. His languid ministrations sought and found a rhythm that made her legs shake and widen farther. He slipped a finger inside her slick, tight opening and she clamped down on her lip, fighting back a scream. She already teetered on the brink on climax and knew it wouldn’t take much more to push her over the edge.
The need to touch him was deliciously excruciating and not being able to invoked a divine conflict where she both wanted to be free yet never wanted to be let go. “Fuck, Samir.” The sense deprivation made her palms damp as her fists alternated between clenching and unclenching. Her head spun as she lay wonderfully trapped beneath his blissful torment. “I want you to fuck me.”
About the Editor:
A graduate of Mills College with degrees in semiotics and mathematics, Alex Algren lives in Oakland, California. She is an avid reader who writes and edits to make more things to read. She is also the editor of Stories of O andKinky!. Currently working on a novel about revenge, she also quilts and volunteers at her local animal shelter.
Buy your copy of Submission: Erotica for Women on Amazon today. Available as an e-book only.
This post is part of the Submission Blog Tour I was asked to participate in by Cleis Press. A copy of Submission: Erotica for Women was provided to me free of charge in exchange for an unbiased review. This is in compliance with FTC guidelines.