In Chains by Lizbeth Dusseau
Kirsten Cates is fresh out of college and on the road to a career as a magazine editor. She’s also young, naïve and desiring when it comes to love. When she falls for the handsome Billy Fitzgerald at a family party, she finds a man straight out of her disturbing, yet obsessive dreams for sexual submission. Can this alarming and forceful man fulfill her bizarre and savage fantasies?
Kirsten agrees to accompany Billy on a summer cruise and tour of Europe, during which he slowly, determinedly awakens Kirsten to the romance and the sometime shocking extremes in becoming his submissive. Soon, she agrees to be his wife, and the starry-eyed submissive is led down a difficult path with surprising twists at every turn - strict discipline, anal eroticism, bondage and humiliating displays of her obedience.
When a maverick filmmaker befriends the bewildered Kirsten, he wants her for himself and intends to break Billy’s fierce grip on her body and soul. A confused Kirsten is torn, and when the extremes of life with Billy leave her frightened, she’s on the verge of rebellion. But can she tear herself away from the depraved passions that run deep, or will she run back to Billy begging for the kind of rough love he promises?
“Here, feel the collar,” she tells me. I tentatively press my hand to the metal chain. It could be mistaken for jewelry, though it has an ominous look. “Now run your hand down my back.” I hesitate. “Do it. It’s not gonna hurt.” With fingers slowly moving as she instructs, I find a metal chain running the length of her back from her collar to her ass. She wants me to know that it goes into the crack between her cheeks. When I finish the journey, I pull my hand away too scared to feel more. The heat of her transmits through my hand, and I can tell I’m growing soppy between my thighs.
Holly turns again, this time facing me, and raising one leg so her skirt parts, she pulls my hand under the table.
“The chain. I want you to feel the chain.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I blush embarrassed as I feel her kinky pubic hair. She pushes my fingers deeper, to where the chain runs between her legs and attaches to a ring pierced through her clit. She’s as wet as I am.
“You have it bad, don’t you?” her voice purrs softly, as she strokes my thigh.
Pulling my hand away, I move back nervously. “But I’m not ready for this.”
“Hey, I’m not planning to take you to Crawford. I’d rather make love to you myself.”
“So, you are hitting on me?”
“But I’m not sure. I’m not sure at all.” Bisexual desires are just formative in my mind, strangely having appeared in my masturbations a few times recently—probably inspired by the conversations about lesbians in my sex class. These new desires were unexpected, and, at first, unwanted, though their appeal becomes far more clear with Holly sitting so close.
“It’s okay if it’s your first time. We’ll take it slow.”
“I don’t think so.” I’m fighting myself, all this made worse because I see she’s going to be disappointed if I turn her down. This is too absurd, and way too soon.
“Hey, you can’t expect me not to try,” she quips.
Of course. She’s amazingly bold, hardly timid the way I am. And she’s submissive? Seems like a strange combination.
“Why me?” I finally ask.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been eyeing you, and you’ve been looking at me. You’re in the class, so I figure there’s some secret desire going on in your head—even if you don’t look the type. I know you’re not a dom. You’re likely a bonafide sub, and if you’re that, I figure you’re probably bi as well. No female sub I’ve been around hasn’t wanted women too.”
That’s a lot of fancy logic all at once, but she’s likely right.
“So, it’s okay to hit on women?” I ask. She backs off the seduction and I breathe easier. “How does that figure with your master?”
“Crawford doesn’t care if I have women, but he’s very strict about sex with men.”
“You’re interested in S&M, aren’t you?” she probes further to find my dark weakness.
“Yes, I suppose I am,” I’m reluctantly admitting, though the confession doesn’t seem to carry the judgmental weight that I fear, realizing that this woman likely lives in the world I dream of every day. I think I’m more scared now because reality stares me in the face and I might actually have to make a choice about these sexual desires.
(c) David Williams, www.myeroticart.net