Best Bondage Erotica 2012 by Rachel Kramer Bussel Page A

spike-heeled shoes and boots than he’d ever seen in one place. The men were far less decorative, on the whole, most going for leather and T-shirts or prim black suits with narrow ties. The majority paraded their submissive girlfriends or wives behind them or on ostentatious leashes. He could pick out the very few gay and lesbian couples easily enough, though there wasn’t a lot of difference in presentation. Both gender and role were on proud display. The few submissive men with their dominant women interested him most.
    He stared at one young-looking guy in nothing but a cock cage, head down, sitting at his mistress’s feet. She was heavily made up, trussed into a corset and long black skirt, and was stroking his shaggy head with long, red nails. A “hetfemdom” poster couple, Nick concluded. Mostly, he found himself wishing he were at home with Paolina, naked and exposed to her desires and demands. Too much here was for show, and that wasn’t what kink was about for him. How much did Paolina really get into this, he wondered, and would it prove too great a wedge between them?
    He didn’t catch even a glint of his lover before a particularly pompous master of ceremonies with shaved head and ample belly mounted the little stage and welcomed everyone to show night at Club Strike. He rushed through basic club rules and etiquette, explaining that after the show, the back playrooms would be open for everyone to enjoy scenes of his or her own using various equipment. Next, he read through the roster of the night’s events, which would include three acts: Sir Trebor and Titiletta, The Spider and the Fly, and a play piercing demonstration by Master Jashin and Lady Jedi. Nick frowned. Why
was there no mention of Paolina? He was shifting in his chair, wondering if he should ask one of the bouncers or another patron, when he caught sight of her. Walking by the curtain at the back of the stage, Paolina passed in an instant, but he was entirely certain it was her, from the shoulder-length black hair with its funky blue streaks to the catsuit-clad curves of her ample hips and perfect peach of an ass. Even her little rounded belly and what another man might have called less-than-average breasts were perfect to him. Once more, the awareness that this must be love struck Nick, and hard.
    Clearly, she would be performing, and given that she was neither a “Titiletta” nor a “Lady Jedi,” he could only assume her act was The Spider and the Fly. He liked it. Though no less kitschy than silly or pretentious scene names, he could enjoy the thought of Paolina as a spider…and himself as the fly. Sadly, before he had his opportunity to swallow his fears and offer himself up publicly to his beautiful predator, he had to spend more than an hour watching the dreadfully clichéd flogging scene of Trebor (which he later learned was simply Robert with the letters reversed) and Titiletta. The leggy blonde with her perfect teeth and fake tits made the most absurd high whimpers and squeaks he’d ever heard a woman make. To be fair, it was obvious the two were enjoying themselves. He wielded his floggers with grace and style, if you liked that sort of thing. She made a pretty picture bound to the St. Andrew’s cross, her pert behind reddening nicely for the silent, appreciative crowd. But it was so performance driven, so focused on looking good. Competent Dom and decorative sub, but was there anything deeper going on?
    His thoughts shifted. Did he hope Paolina would offer more? If she simply put on a superficial show, he would be both disappointed and relieved. What they shared together was genuine, heartfelt, sometimes so intense they talked about it for days
afterward, reliving and rejoicing in it over lunch, by phone or email. They both felt it, he was certain. If she could put a stranger through the physical and emotional pleasure and pain she gave him, what would it mean about them? His