Slave Girls: Erotic Stories of Submission

Slave Girls: Erotic Stories of Submission

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781627780322
Publisher: Start Publishing, LLC
Publication date: 05/13/2014
Pages: 242
Sales rank: 1,022,092
Product dimensions: 5.50(w) x 7.90(h) x 0.70(d)

About the Author


D.L. King has edited over a dozen erotica anthologies and her short stories appear in more than five dozen more. A Lambda Literary Award winner (The Harder She Comes), two-time IPPY gold medalist (Carnal Machines, The Harder She Comes) and one-time silver medalist (Under Her Thumb), she most recently edited the best-selling Slave Girls: Erotic Stories of Submission. She is the author of two novels, The Melinoe Project and The Art of Melinoe. Her work can be found in anthologies such as The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Best Women's Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Girl Crazy, Luscious, No Safewords, Yes, Ma'am, and Yes, Sir. She lives in New York City.

Rose Caraway is a native Northern California writer, narrator, and podcaster. She has written two novels and countless short stories. Although her specialty is erotic writing, she also has a passion for suspense, fantasy, and romance. She lives in Sacramento, CA.

Read an Excerpt

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?

Table of Contents

Noise Evan Mora
Out of Sight Rachel Kramer Bussel
Cubed Alison Tyler
Serving Mr. Baldwin Veronica Wilde
Press My Buttons Nina Fairweather
Breathe Sommer Marsden
What’s Not to Like? D. L. King
Hell-Bent for Leather Victoria Behn
Passing the Final Donna George Storey
Bridle Party Teresa Noelle Roberts
The Red Envelope Erzabet Bishop
Green’s Lisette Ashton
Breaking Fiona Cecilia Duvalle
Muse Lisabet Sarai
Postcards from Paris Giselle Renarde
Flight Cela Winter
Savoring Little One Graydancer
Day Job Deborah Castellano
Stand Here Nym Nix
Dirty Pictures Thomas S. Roche
My Master’s Mark Lydia Hill

Customer Reviews

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Slave Girls: Erotic Stories of Submission 5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
You will get exactly what you want with "Slave GIrls!" This book is like 20 "Stories of O" and is SO addictively readable. I would say it is sinfully good and better than many of these kinds of books by a long shot. I will be looking for more of DL King's books as she is talented. Btw, the cover is fantastic!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I've read the Fifty Shades of Grey series, but I feel like that hardly qualifies me as prepared to read a submissive erotica collection like this. What surprised me was the variety in all the stories. There weren't just men dominating women or women dominating men. My favorite story, "The Red Envelope," by Erzabet Bishop, involves a woman dominating a woman. And that sub was new to it all, too! That's what hooked me.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I'm not the sort of girl who likes to use silky scarves for restraints, or thinks a gentle tap on the rear counts as a spanking. I like my kink intense, boundary-breaking, and maybe even a little shocking at times. Every page of Slave Girls was a page-turning, edge-of-my-seat experience, and I'd recommend it to anyone who enjoys their fantasies on the kinkier side of things. I can personally guarantee that this reading will inspire at least one new fantasy, and make for hours of reading pleasure, whether alone or with a partner. Doms, subs, and switches alike will love this collection!