Kink & BDSM
Power play, dominance, exploring boundaries
19 stories
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Harrison's Secateurs
He gripped the back of her neck, his thumb tracing the frantic beat of her pulse against the vineyard’s humid twilight.
![](https://miscd.fra1.digitaloceanspaces.com/medium/"i'm-counting-every-minute-you’re-not-under-my-thumb"-419-cover-1784246467772.jpg)
"I'm Counting Every Minute You’re Not Under My Thumb"
The saxophone wailed like a widow while I watched her pulse jump against the high collar of that black silk shirt.
![](https://miscd.fra1.digitaloceanspaces.com/medium/"you’re-smirking-into-your-gin-again"-364-cover-1783987240275.jpg)
"You’re Smirking Into Your Gin Again"
I looked at the phone in my clutch, the screen a tiny white sun against the charcoal walls of the gallery.
![](https://miscd.fra1.digitaloceanspaces.com/medium/"you’ve-been-holding-your-breath-since-the-lobby"-583-cover-1783814453050.jpg)
"You’ve Been Holding Your Breath Since the Lobby"
The humidity in St. Barts was a physical weight, much like the expectation that I would remain composed while Kieran dismantled my autonomy.
Fasten the Silk
The leather of my raptor mask smelled of tanning oils and the salt of my own breath, trapped against my lips.
Reid's Flask
I had spent my career teaching people how to hold themselves together, but in that sterile hotel suite, I only wanted to be dismantled.
Grain
The sound of the shutter is a tiny guillotine, and every time it drops, I lose another piece of my professional composure.
Viscosity
His hand on my neck felt like a cast-iron skillet—unyielding, retaining a heat that scorched long after the flame went out.
Gallery 19
I pinned her against the cold marble of the pedestal, the scent of her perfume cutting through the expensive air like a flare.
A Bent Silver Spoon
You didn’t just want my obedience; you wanted the specific way my breath caught when the leather met the back of my thighs.
![](https://miscd.fra1.digitaloceanspaces.com/medium/"you’re-not-wearing-the-bracelet-i-sent-to-your-hotel"-726-cover-1777536060331.jpg)
"You’re Not Wearing the Bracelet I Sent to Your Hotel"
The bass from the main stage was vibrating the walls of the trailer, a rhythmic thud that matched the way my thumb was hovering over the send button.
Did You Hear the Lock Click?
He has these hands that look like they could build a house or tear one down, and right now, they’re wrapped around my wrists.