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Saturday, January 19, 2013

Free BDSM erotica short story excerpt: "What You Deserve" by Lori Selke from Serving Him

Here's another free excerpt, this time from Lori Selke's opening story "What You Deserve" in Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission, following the excerpt of my story "Subbing." If you like this snippet, please do me a favor and go on over to Amazon and click "like" at the top of the page while signed in to your Amazon account. The book has 61 likes and I'm trying to get to 100 to show Amazon just how many BDSM erotica fans are out there. THANK YOU! And if you are hankering to write you own erotica and get published, see my calls for submissions for 1,200 word or less BDSM submission erotica and Best Bondage Erotica 2014, both with April 1st deadlines.

What You Deserve
by Lori Selke

He left me a voicemail message the morning of our date. “Tonight, my dear Deirdre,” he rumbled into the phone, “You’re going to get what you deserve.” He added a few details—a time for me to appear at his apartment, instructions to let myself in and read the note he will leave me on the dining room table, which will provide further guidance.

Jake and I had been dating long enough for me to not only have the key to his apartment but a small dresser drawer dedicated to my personal effects in his bedroom. We were an item. We only had eyes for each other. Our friends laughed admiringly at our continued chemistry.

If they only knew.

I wasn’t Jake’s full-time submissive. Neither of us were interested in that. But when we were together, the energy was undeniable. I wanted to please him, and he loved to put me though my paces. We’d figured out our mutual kinkiness early on and indulged it every chance we got. I’d worn a play collar for him once or twice—okay, a couple dozen times. He had toys he’d bought just to use them on me. A little trust game like this one was par for the course for us. Something not too heavy, but not entirely frivolous. Serious fun.

It was a journey we’d embarked upon together after one too many nights entangled together, whispering our sexual secrets to each other in the dark. Somehow it was always easier for me if I couldn’t see his face when I made my true confessions. He had noticed how turned on I got when he pulled my hair, yes he had. When he slapped my ass once or twice, or held my head down on his delectable cock. He liked to watch me blush when he trailed his fingers along my jawline. The rest felt as inevitable as gravity.

If I was ever supposed to be ashamed of my submissive desires for Jake, then I must have cut that class in school.

I rushed home after work and quickly showered and changed my clothes. Jake’s voicemail hadn’t left any specific instructions as to my attire.

So I dressed for myself. I put on a casual dress with a black crossover top and a pretty black and white graphic print skirt—it always made me feel like an old-time pre-Technicolor movie star. Black bra, black panties, bare legs, men’s-loafer-inspired pumps. Kind of like what I’d wear to the office, only a little bit funkier. Jake worked in customer support. He liked it partly because nobody ever saw his face—or his shoulder-length hair, or the tribal tattoos on his forearms, plus the one on the web between his left thumb and forefinger. He’d had a dissolute younger life that he’d only begun to divulge to me, but he reined it in when he started to go gray at the temples. Suddenly health insurance became a priority, too, and the debauchery could wait for the weekend.

Or nights when I slept over. Whatever worked.

I let myself into his apartment as instructed. And also as instructed, there was a note on his little two-person dining table, which was bare except for a slim little dog collar I was so very intimately acquainted with already, as well as a blindfold, one of those ruffled satin sleep mask styles. This one was pink. The note simply said, “Put these on.” So that’s what I did. First the collar, then the blindfold. Then I carefully perched on the edge of the dinette chair and waited.

He must have been waiting down the hall, perhaps in his bedroom; I heard his footfall on the carpet. He’d taken his shoes off. I straightened my back, hands in my lap, already squirming with anticipation. But instead of touching me or hearing his coarse whisper close to my ear, I heard the clanking of pots in the kitchen, then the gentle chink of china on the table next to me.

The first words he spoke to me were, “Open your mouth.” So I did. He slipped something inside it, to sit on my tongue. “Taste it,” he said. It was salty and tangy and sweet and creamy and chewy. Eventually the sensations sorted themselves out. Half a fig, stuffed with goat cheese and sprinkled with thyme and honey, he told me as I chewed. He gave me another. I licked leftover honey off his fingers.

He continued to feed me by hand—slivers of lemony roast chicken, slices of cheese, cubes of bread, olives, room-temperature cherry tomatoes that popped in my mouth. I tried not to giggle or bite the tips of his fingers, but it was hard. It was hard to hold still and let myself be fed. But when I got too fidgety, he just said, “If I have to, I’ll tie your hands behind your back.” I stopped fidgeting.

“Slow down,” he said again after a few more bites. “Savor it. We’ve got all night. Don’t worry, I guarantee you’re going to get what you deserve.”
If you liked this excerpt, please do like it on Amazon, enter to win a $50 Amazon gift card by pre-ordering by January 31st, and stay tuned for more excerpts!

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