Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Kinky Book Tour: "She’s on Top"

To promote her two new books, She’s on Top: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance and Male Submission and He’s on Top: Erotic Stories of Male Dominance and Female Submission, Rachel Kramer Bussel is doing a virtual book tour.

Over 30 blogs will be blogging on the themes of dominance and submission, writing about these two books and featuring excerpts. Complete info about the virtual book tour is here. I’m pleased to be first up (even if it is April Fools’ Day).

Kinky Book Tour participants: please note that I am using these Technorati tags/Blogger.com categories for this post (Click on each link to be taken to view the Technorati posts):

Now, here’s an excerpt from Saskia Walker’s story “The Inner Vixen.” Enjoy!

The Inner Vixen
by Saskia Walker

(from She’s on Top: Erotic Stories of Female Dominance and Male Submission)

Daniel is kneeling before me. I walk around him, my paces measured, my long leather boots making a quiet but insistent sound as they brush together. They’re all I’m wearing. Daniel is stripped to the waist, his arms cuffed behind him. I’m admiring his body, so leanly muscular as he kneels on the floor before me, resting on his haunches, his torso upright and proud. As I consider the fact that he is mine, my willing pet, power plumes through me. As if it were a heady sexual elixir, I thrive on it. My core tightens and my sex grows damper with each passing moment.

His head moves imperceptibly as he watches me, and I revel in his adoring gaze. His cock is hard inside his faded black jeans, but I know he likes that confinement, just as he likes his wrists bound behind his back while I survey him. He’s so alert, so taut with restrained desire. I feel it pouring out of him and it empowers me more.

As I walk on, circling him, I reach over, pull a chair close behind him, and sit. Over his shoulder, I see our reflection in the mirror. He’s looking too, and it’s the perfect image of woman and lover. I trace one hand down his back. His muscles ripple and I know he’s longing for more, for a more vivid assault on his senses: the whip. Making him wait, I sit back in the chair, lift my foot, and rest one stiletto heel between his shoulder blades, edging him forward. He pivots against it and groans aloud, his body arched. I know just how much pain he wants, how much he needs. My body responds to his reaction, heat rising to the surface of my skin. My inner vixen is revving up to full throttle, the essential me—the inner woman that Daniel recognized and introduced me to.

“How did you know that I would respond?” I asked him the night we met.

“I saw her, your inner vixen. I wanted to know her. I wanted to experience her.”

So did I.