by Dayle A. Dermatis and Teresa Noelle Roberts (aka Sophie Mouette)
Once again, the talented editor (and writer, but we’re talking about her editing genius here) Rachel Kramer Bussel has pulled together amazingly hot collections of erotic stories. This time, the focus is on dominance and submission from the sub’s point of view. Yes, Sir: Erotic Stories of Female Submission and Yes, Ma’am: Erotic Stories of Male Submission are packed with juicy tales of play and punishment, pain and pleasure.
And if you look at the tables of contents, you’ll see some familiar names…. What a shock, that Lusties and their friends might write about pain, pleasure, and power exchange!
Yes, Sir: Erotic Stories of Female Submission Table of Contents:
Introduction: Ready to Say Yes (Sir) by Rachel Kramer Bussel
“The Art of Darkness” by Alison Tyler
“Dear Professor Pervert” by Donna George Storey
“A Necessary Connection” by Debra Hyde
“The Editor” by Amanda Earl
“Ribbons” by Kathryn O’Halleran
“The Day I Came in Public” by D.L. King
“Lunch” by Elizabeth Coldwell
“When Penny Met Harry” by Stan Kent
“The Power of No” by Teresa Noelle Roberts
“In The Corner” by Sommer Marsden
“Stuck at Work and Late for a Date” by Chelsea Summers
“Running Wild” by Shanna Germain
“Pink is the Enemy” by Jocelyn Bringas
“Sitting on Ice Cream” by Lisette Ashton
“Under His Hand, I Blossom” by Nikki Magennis
“Make Me” by Rachel Kramer Bussel
“Body Electric” by Lisabet Sarai
“Reclaiming the Sofa” by Maddy Stuart
“How Bad Do You Want It?” by Gwen Masters
Yes, Ma’am: Erotic Stories of Male Submission Table of Contents
Introduction: “Giving It Up: Letting Her Rule” by Rachel Kramer Bussel
“Zero Sum Game” by Alex Mendra
“Secret Desires” by Ellen Tevault
“Tea for Three” by Lee Ash
“Exhibit A” by Chris Cooper
“A Different Kind of Reality Show” by D. L. King
“Secretary’s Day” by Rachel Kramer Bussel
“Wedding Night” by Dominic Santi
“Flash” by Alison Tyler
“It’s Cold Outside” by Stephen Elliott
“An Invitation to the Dance” by Sylvane Alistair
“Sticking with You” by L. E. Bland
“i 1t u 2 do sumfin 4 me” by George Cross
“Rope Burn” by A. D. R. Forte
“His Lady’s Manservant” by Andrea Dale
“Taming the Unruly” by Debra Hyde
“The Big What” by Michael Hemmingson
“The Mean Girl” by Teresa Noelle Roberts
“Connection” by Kristina Wright
In Teresa Noelle Roberts’ story, “The Power of No,” a newbie bottom who thinks she’s just enjoying new and different sensations discovers her sexuality is more complex than she realized while playing a new kind of game—orgasm denial:
“When you’re about to come, say ‘edge,’” he commanded. “I’ll let you know if you may. Now don’t move. I want to see how well you hold position. And don’t come without permission.”
Too nervous to laugh this time—and I was convinced, too anxious to need to worry about coming—I took a deep breath and waited for my ass to catch fire.
Instead, I felt the flogger glide across the skin of my back, a sensual caress. It didn’t feel like the stiff strands I’d been anticipating, either, but something softer, suede perhaps.
That bastard had switched floggers on me! I itched to turn around and see which he’d chosen. I hadn’t seen even a fraction of Enrique’s toy collection, and curiosity was trying to get the better of me. Those falls felt so velvety as they brushed across my back, making my skin twitch like a cat’s in their wake, sending shivers deep into my core. Maybe they were velvet, or perhaps fur? I wanted to know…
But I couldn’t make myself turn around.
I told myself it was because I didn’t want to spoil whatever game he was playing. I wanted to know, but I certainly didn’t want him to stop, and I risked that if I turned around, since he’d told me to told still.
That was what I told myself, anyway.
In Shanna Germain’s “Running Wild,” the wife in a marriage that’s going amuck meets a man who can help her get back in control by giving up some control:
“Saw you riding the barrels in Sisters last year,” he said.
“Yeah, what’d you think?”
He looked up, crooked grin a little higher. “Thought you could have given up some control, trust your mare a little more. She would have gone faster ’round that second barrel.”
I didn’t say anything. I’d finished second in that run, just behind the top rider in the state.
He hung the bridle up and wiped his hands on a rag.
“And I think you’re not standing there just to ask me what I think about your riding.”
I cocked my head. “Really? Why am I standing here?”
With his easy stride, he was at my head in a second. He put the flat of his hand against my cheek.
“Because you’ve been running wild all summer long, and you need someone to put some reins on you and put you in check.”
I tried to think, but his hand moved down, grasped the back of my head and held me in place.
“Who told you that?” I asked, once I could think again.
“Your husband,” he said.
I laughed. “Right.” Like he cared.
Bobby moved my head forward until his lips pressed against mine. He didn’t kiss me; he talked to me, moving his lips so I could feel every word like some kind of Braille.
“He didn’t hire me to break your horses,” Bobby said. “He hired me to break you. I’ve been waiting all week for you to get your ass out of bed and show up.”
I didn’t believe him, but it didn’t matter.
In “His Lady’s Manservant,” two actors working at a murder mystery weekend stay in their roles of lady of the manor and butler even after they’ve retired. Andrea Dale is one of Dayle Dermatis’s many pseudonyms.
It was when I was unlacing her corset that it struck me: as I essentially freed her, my actions were binding me to her whims. Not forced bondage by any means—it was entirely by my choice.
She lounged back on the bed, wearing only lace-trimmed bloomers and a matching sleeveless silk camisole and sheer stockings (probably not Victorian-period, but oh, so sexy), and told me to undress.
I shucked my clothes, again wanting to leave them where they fell but instead folding them neatly. Melina’s eyes never left me, even as she idly circled one nipple with her finger until the nub blushed dark and hard against the silk.
She was stunning. I wanted to worship her. When she beckoned me to her, I was thrilled that she hadn’t found me wanting.
At her command, I suckled her breasts through the silk. The fabric grew damp and see-through, and when I blew on it, she arched her back and mewled with pleasure.
I tugged her drawers down—they were damp, too, with her musky scent—and couldn’t resist running the silk across my turgid cock, the fabric excruciatingly soft between my fist and my sensitized flesh.
“We’ll have none of that.” Melina plucked the bloomers out of my reach. “You’re here for my pleasure.”
These collections are full of hot d/s sex. But as the excerpts show, they’re also full of emotion. Fear and catharsis, cruelty and tenderness interweave in complex ways. And one thing that’s clear in these stories is that submissives, whether male or female, aren’t frail little flowers (except when that scenario is amusing to all concerned). They’re fierce in their desires and needs and sometimes stronger than they realize themselves, even as they yield to someone who’s gleefully taken the power they offer up.
P.S: The winner of Niki Flynn's book Dances with Werewolves is Crystal Adkins. Congratulations Crystal! E-mail me your postal details to janinineashbless[at]fsmail[dot]net and we'll send you your prize.