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Surrender: Erotic Tales of Female Pleasure and Submission
     

Surrender: Erotic Tales of Female Pleasure and Submission

by Rachel Kramer Bussel
 

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Rachel Kramer Bussel's bestselling books of submissive women and dominant men showcase our fantasies, desires, and deepest wishes. For those (and there are MANY) who love to be tired up, spanked, blindfolded, bound, or "used," for another's pleasure, these are books of inspiration. And, of course, these smart subs are getting exactly what THEY really want in very many

Overview

Rachel Kramer Bussel's bestselling books of submissive women and dominant men showcase our fantasies, desires, and deepest wishes. For those (and there are MANY) who love to be tired up, spanked, blindfolded, bound, or "used," for another's pleasure, these are books of inspiration. And, of course, these smart subs are getting exactly what THEY really want in very many ways. Good BDSM erotica makes us understand all the emotions that can come into play when, well, playing: there can be uncertainty, nervousness, fear, excitement. Each of the 22 stories in Surrender are blazingly hot and because they illuminate some aspect of submission. The authors of the stories understand the art of submission and the thrill of surrender, whether that’s personal space, sight (“Without Eyes” by Terri Pray) or culinary choices (“Lunch” by Elizabeth Coldwell).What the women here want is to give up part of themselves to gain something else. They may still be skittish, but overcoming their fears, surrendering to them, yields beauty, pleasure and, in its way, power.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781573446730
Publisher:
Cleis Press
Publication date:
03/01/2011
Sold by:
SIMON & SCHUSTER
Format:
NOOK Book
Pages:
240
Sales rank:
622,516
File size:
284 KB

Read an Excerpt


Power over Power
by Emerald

I pulled open the glass door against the glaring Saturday morning sun. The heavily windowed walls offered little relief from its brightness as I blinked and looked around the lobby.
Dominic sat at his desk across from the front counter. One month before, I had watched Dominic on the first night of class as he stood at the front of the studio and introduced the defense system in which he would be training us. The students stood in a row in front of him, dressed the same way he was in sneakers, black t-shirts with the royal blue Krav Maga logo on the chest, and loose, lightweight black pants with matching royal blue stripes down the sides.
“Krav Maga is not like traditional martial arts,” he had explained. “Traditional martial arts involve sparring, a back-and-forth, a focus on skill. Krav Maga is about dropping somebody?knocking someone out within ten seconds so you can get away.” He met the eyes of each student in the line in front of him. “It’s also not about size. The point of Krav is that it puts everyone on an equal playing field, focusing on universal vulnerabilities that anyone can exploit, regardless of size.”
His voice was calm, assured, serious. I had watched him, captivated. Dominic didn’t necessarily look like a self-defense expert. He was only slightly taller than I was, probably five-foot-ten. His build was slim and athletic. The denseness of his muscles, however, was evident not only under the short sleeves of his t-shirt but also in the resounding thuds that reverberated off the studio walls as he demonstrated kicks, punches, knees, and elbows on the punching bag at the front of the room as the students watched in silence.
Despite the subject matter, there was no bravado or machismo in his countenance. I had seen from the pictures and accompanying labels hanging in the lobby that Dominic instructed traditional martial arts as well as Krav Maga. While I had never taken any myself, I sensed in him the understated confidence I had observed before in martial artists?an exquisite self-possession and understanding of their capabilities, the assurance as such that there was no need to prove anything to anyone. It was like they had power over their own power. It served them rather than the other way around. There was no compulsion to use it, to put it on display; it was just there, second nature, if it was ever needed.
Dominic looked up at my entrance.
“Hi, Jackie.”
I smiled at him and glanced at the clock. Saturday morning class was optional, a makeup class for those who missed any of the three sessions held during the week or who just wanted an extra review. I was about five minutes early, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else around.
He followed my gaze. “You're the only one here so far. People often trickle in around starting time on Saturdays. You can have a seat if you want, or go on in and start warming up.”
I sat on the bench perpendicular to his desk, and he smiled and turned back to his computer. I didn’t need to look at Dominic to feel the way he was affecting me. It happened just from being in the same room with him. It was something that went beyond looks, beyond personality, beyond simple attraction. It was pure heat, like a raw power of undiluted wanting, craving, hunger. I felt it when I watched the nonchalance with which he taught the methodology used by the Israeli army for hand-to-hand combat, a methodology designed, ultimately, to kill people. I watched the skill, control, and focus of the lightning flashes of movement, the cracking thuds against padding that seemed effortless to him, and felt the raw heat in my core. Every movement he executed was exactly what was called for, nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t execute power just for the sake of executing power. Power was cultivated in him so deeply that it simply came out when needed.
I wanted to fuck him so badly I could hardly stand still.
Five minutes later he glanced at the clock again. “Hmm. Maybe people had a little too much partying on a Friday night,” he chuckled as he stood up. “I’ve never had attendance this low on a Saturday.”
“Yeah, I imagine you want to cancel,” I babbled, standing nervously.
Dominic shrugged. “It’s up to you. You can certainly take off if you’d like. If you want to stay, I’ll work you.”
A shiver went through me, and I tried not to shudder visibly. I glanced around, not sure if I did want to take the class with Dominic all by myself. I knew his focus was strictly professional, and I might end up making a fool of myself as I practically drooled over him.
“Uh, okay. If you don’t mind,” I responded, my mouth appearing to ignore all the considerations that had just run through my mind.
“No, come on in,” he said, indicating the studio with a jerk of his head and leading me into it. I moved to the far end toward the supply room and set my bag and purse down on the bench.
As we began stretching, my breath quickened. The training hadn’t even begun, and already I knew this was a mistake. I wasn’t going to be able to handle this kind of undivided attention from Dominic. Even if he were interested in what I was, which I had no reason to believe he was, the studio’s walls were made of glass, making the view from the street wide open. He wasn’t about to fuck me with that kind of visibility.
I had to get out of there.
“Okay, you remember the way we learned early in the week to defend against a choke hold?” Dominic asked.
“Yeah,” I answered, clearing my throat. Dominic approached me, and I almost backed up, not trusting myself if he touched me.
“Show me what you remember.” He reached forward and placed both hands around my neck, facing me. My breath caught, and I snapped my hands up and slammed my forearms into his, breaking the grip.
“Good,” he said, stepping back. “Let’s try it up against the wall.”
I was painfully aware of my ragged breathing and the wetness between my legs as Dominic leaned into me, wrapping his hands around my neck and pushing me back against the wall. I defended again and had to consciously resist pressing my hand between my legs.
“Okay, grab a kick shield,” Dominic said, nodding at a stack in the corner of the room. “I’m going to demonstrate the kick we learned on Wednesday. Remember, start with your weight on the kicking foot?hop quickly to the other foot and kick while you’re in the air. The momentum increases your power. Then recoil immediately. Always recoil right away. Limbs not up against you are vulnerable to being grabbed.”
I nodded, trying to focus. Dominic backed up, and I crouched in position with the kick pad in front of me. Dominic’s foot snapped forward, and I was almost knocked backward by the force of the impact even as the padding absorbed most of it. I shuddered as I imagined what such

Meet the Author

Rachel Kramer Bussel regularly contributes to Refinery 29, Glamour, and Cosmopolitan, and she hosts readings around the country. A prolific erotica editor, her titles include He’s on Top, She’s on Top, and Do Not Disturb. She lives in New York City Praise for Dirty Dates "This stimulating read is both for experienced players and those just discovering the joy of tying up your lover. Anything For You is a collection of sexy stories of uninhibited, adventurous sex by the county's best erotic writers. Each boldly-wrought tale shared with your lover is another door opened into the erotic mindscape." —YourTango "Rachel Kramer Bussel's is a guidebook to great sex, told story by delicious story of uninhibited, adventurous sex sure to keep the home fires burning Each boldly wrought tale shared with your lover is another door opened into the erotic mindscape." -- Fresh Fiction "A scintillatingly kinky combination of scenarios is offered for the reader's arousal, captivating with words anyone who has a bondage fetish." -- Night Owl Reviews "Each character in these stories shows a tremendous amount of strength and pride. It takes guts to let someone see your innermost desires, and allow them the freedom to grow. There is certainly something for everyone here." -- Coffee Time Romance

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