Slave Girls: Erotic Stories of Submission - Softcover

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1627780327 ISBN 13: 9781627780322

Publisher: Cleis Press, 2014

Synopsis

The idea of a woman enslaved to her lover has captured the imagination of millions and created bestsellers such as The Story of O, Carrie's Story, and Fifty Shades of Grey. Award-winning editor and writer D. L. King pulls back the velvet curtains to reveal a world where every sexual fantasy is realized, a world driven by desire and the need to be dominated. These Slave Girls want nothing more than to be subjugated and owned in body and soul. Trained and tested to suit every sexual taste, these women learn the ropes -- literally. King and her masterful eroticists offer the reader an immersive experience. These sexy, subversive stories of submission are from the very best eroticists including Alison Tyler, Sommer Marsden, and D. L. King herself.

About this title

About the Author

D. L. King is a Lambda Literary Award winner, two-time Independent Publisher Book Award (IPPY) gold medalist and one time silver medalist. She has edited a dozen anthologies and written stories appearing in more than six times that number. She is the author of two erotic novels and a collection of her own femdom stories. She publishes and edits the review site - Erotica Revealed (eroticarevealed.com). Find her at dlkingerotica.com and dlkingerotica.blogspot.com.

From the Back Cover

The Gift of Submission

Forever in an electric dance of give and take, pleasure and power are inextricably linked. In Slave Girls, award-winning eroticist D. L. King pulls back the velvet curtain to reveal a world where every sexual fantasy is realized, a world driven by women devoted to their own desires and their dominants. These Slave Girls want nothing more than to willingly relinquish control to the capable hands of the right Master. Trained and tested to suit every sexual taste, these women learn the ropes—literally. A hassle-filled day turns on a dime when a strong Dom takes charge in Victoria Behn’s “Hell-Bent for Leather.” In Giselle Renarde’s “Postcards from Paris,” one good girl lives for her daily dose of discipline and tough love. The thrill of being in service to a stranger compels the lust-filled sub in Rachel Kramer Bussel’s “Out of Sight.” Your own desires may surprise you after finishing the submissive exploits of Slave Girls.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Veronica Wilde’s “Serving Mr. Baldwin”

He sighed heavily, walked toward me and pulled the sweater right over my head. I gasped as he unhooked my bra and pulled it down, backing me against the desk.
“You are to do as I say,” he said, fondling my breasts. “I made it very clear how I wanted you to dress, and now you’ve already disobeyed me on the second day. If you always have this much trouble following orders, this isn’t going to work out.”
“I’m sorry. I won’t have any more trouble.”
He lightly tugged on each nipple, making me bite my lip. I tried not to show how badly I wanted him to keep going. He smelled fantastic, and being topless as a tall, older man in a suit loomed over me was activating every submissive fantasy I had.
“Look at me.”
I looked up into those heavy-lidded dark eyes.
“I need someone I can depend on,” he said, pinching my nipples. “Not a little office slut who wiggles around trying to entice me. Understood?” I nodded and he sighed. “Very well, then. Bend over.”
My face went hot. Oh god. Was this really going where I wanted it to? I turned around and bent over the desk, my breasts brushing the cool mahogany. He matter-of-factly pulled up my skirt and tugged my panties down my thighs. I was now naked for all intents and purposes in a corporate office while a stern businessman loomed behind me, and the thought of what might happen next was soaking my cunt.

“Noise” by Evan Mora

You ask me what I need, the rich tenor of your voice as smoky as the scotch that even now, I know, lingers on your tongue. That you know what I need matters not. It’s a part of the ritual—the naming of my desires. It has been from the beginning.
“I need…” I say, eyes fixed somewhere below your open collar, on the skin that I know will feel smooth and hot beneath my mouth. You grasp my chin in your hand, exerting enough pressure to force my gaze upward until I am caught by the impossible arctic blue of your eyes, eyes that appear at once cold and remote and yet burn like the hottest of flames. You arch an aristocratic brow at my silence and the words spill out, the words that never change, words of hunger and longing and desperate, desperate need.
In the silence that follows you weigh my words while your hand slides lower, spanning my neck. Little by little you tighten your hold, and while your gaze never leaves mine I know you miss nothing—not the flutter of my pulse against the pad of your thumb or the convulsive swallow I can’t control as the pressure and my need for air mount. I don’t close my eyes, even when stars threaten and your mouth covers mine with brutal intensity, stealing my reflexive gasp. I want you to see the surrender in my eyes. I want you to know that I am yours.


This is from “Postcards from Paris” by Giselle Renarde. It’s sort of between the two .


“I’ve never seen this much hair on a woman,” Yannik said, in that dark voice that made Emily shiver.
Hunter helped him tie her wrists to her legs, spread-eagled on the couch. Her thighs trembled. She thought she couldn’t hold the pose, at first. And then, as other things distracted her, the ache subsided.
“It’s dark,” Hunter said. “I’m surprised. I thought it would be closer to your hair color, but it’s almost black, isn’t it?”
“Almost,” Emily said, wincing. They always did this—ignored her pain, pretended she was perfectly at ease in whatever position they picked. Didn’t matter that her muscles were twitching, stretching, crying out in pain. That’s what they wanted.
“Look how wet she is,” Yannik said, patting her pussy.
“How can you tell?” Hunter asked. “I can’t see a thing beyond that fucking hair.”
All Emily could think was, Don’t act so disgusted by my body. You made me do this! But she bit her lip. She didn’t speak.
“There’s so much of it.” Yannik traced his fingers through her bush, making it stick up like a Mohawk so she looked ridiculous.
They played with her pussy like it was a toy. She wanted to feel embarrassed about all that goddamn hair, but she also loved the attention. Two men, four eyes, ten fingers focused on her hairy little cunt. But the boys’ humiliation plot was sagging just a touch, because she liked it.
“You’re right,” Hunter said, shoving one finger up her snatch. “Wow, she is wet.”
Of course I’m wet! You put on my black stay-up stockings, you split me open, tie my wrists to my legs and start teasing me? How could I not be wet?

Edition details

• Publisher: Cleis Press
• Publication date: 2014
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 1627780327
• ISBN 13: 9781627780322
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 242
• Editor: King D. L.