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Browse 231 quotes about Bdsm.

Bdsm Quotes

“I can let go of the twenty-three-year-old idiot who didn't realize just how much he could love you. I can. He's gone. I can let go of the man who was so tied up in his own guilt that he didn't really see you for years. But I will never let go of the eighty-year-old man who will hold your hand until the day he dies. I will fight for that old man. I will never let go of him.”

“Don’t tell me my writing is misogynistic or anti-feminist just because I or my heroines like to be controlled in the bedroom and find great satisfaction and freedom with it. That is the most anti-feminist statement I have ever heard. Feminism is all about letting women be who THEY want to be. Not how YOU want them to be...I am both a feminist AND a submissive in my sexual fantasies and reality. You are the one who is anti-feminist who tells me I can’t be.”

“As I am still on duty at this moment, is there anything else I can do for you?” he continues. Images of him kissing me, disrobing me and fondling my entire body fill my mind… I push them away, although I know my face has coloured at the thought. “I have a few suggestions…” I murmur quietly, staring into his smouldering blue eyes. “But I am not sure they fall into a butler’s remit.” “Perhaps you’d be surprised at the lengths I’m prepared to go to in order to keep you happy, madam,” he replies, winking at me.”

“Shall I pour for you madam?” he asks. It is an appropriate question and yet he makes it sound like a scorching proposal… “Mmmm, please,” is all I manage in reply. I watch him filling the crystal flutes one at a time. He is meticulous and seems to deliberately take a long time to complete the job. The room is silent – except, it seems, for the sounds of my excited breathing. “Is there anything else I can do to help you enjoy your stay?” he probes, raising one dark eyebrow ever so slightly...”

“I find it [shibari] contagious in its pleasure. The bindings don't limit -- they define your current existence and so relax your mind. Yeah, I know. Sounds weird, but during sex I'm always thinking, wondering what I look like, worrying about how my hair must look, what I smell like, and if the fat roll is rolling. But when you're knotted up in five-thousand pound test rope, you're not going anywhere or doing anything, so you can just relax and enjoy the pleasure he's giving to him and you.”

“When my skin had gone back to its even tone I slept with another man and discovered, my hands lying awkwardly on the sheet at either side of me, that I had forgotten what to do with them. I'm responsible and an adult again, full time. What remains is that my sensation thermostat has been thrown out of whack; it's been years and sometimes I wonder whether my body will ever again register above lukewarm.”

“Dovevo prendere in fretta una decisione. Mi voltai e vidi Jason avvicinarsi. Anche Booker si voltò e aspettai che la gara di testosterone ricominciasse. Dovevo restare? Dovevo andare? Dovevo scappare lontano? Jason era a pochi passi quando Booker mi afferrò il mento e spinse le sue labbra contro le mie. Smisi di respirare, non credendo a ciò che stava accadendo. La sua mano scivolò sul mio collo… come una goccia d’acqua sul vetro di una finestra. Il suo leggero tocco mi causò la pelle d’oca e un brivido di piacere percorse ogni centimetro del mio corpo. La sua lingua massaggiò il mio labbro inferiore, e dischiusi la bocca per lui. Non sapevo perché. Credevo che non avrei mai permesso a quest’uomo di toccarmi, figuriamoci baciarmi. Ma non opposi resistenza. La sua lingua mi penetrò… Assaggiò. Succhiò. Assaporò.”

“Despite his attractiveness, Sandie couldn’t have been more disappointed. She lamented, thinking that she should have known that it would have just been another stupid cowboy like her father to show up. Still, she couldn’t help but hope that he would be some sort of comfort, even if only as company and a hand with the sometimes back-breaking work. He certainly was easy on the eyes, and his warm smile conveyed a sort of gentleness that was almost entirely foreign to her. The way he extended his hand earnestly, even removing his hat when walking up to her, made her feel respected and appreciated.”

“The transition from being hurt to hurting was natural. Even though I didn’t really know why he’d started crying – it felt like something I did. It felt like being a great big black widow and realizing that all the male spiders were tiny and weak and covered in soft vulnerable bits, whereas I had this hard, shiny thorax and great big teeth.”

“Her mascara ran in streaks down her face lipstick smeared across her alabaster cheeks like a porcelain doll that had been flung around before the paint had dried. ... barely blinking eyes like content little suns poking through dark mascara clouds she is broken yet whole at the same time and she belongs to him (excerpt from "Content" in Make Me Take It From You by HL37)”

“I’m not going to deny that I want to fuck you. I can’t promise a future or that I’ll be some sniveling boyfriend who pines away after you once I go back to L.A. But I will say that I have plans for you if you say yes. “I can promise you that I’m going to take you to new heights that you’ve never imagined. That I’ll make you feel pleasure so intense that you forget your name. I’ll fuck you so good, for so long that the only thing you’ll crave is my hands on your skin, my cock deep in your pussy. “If you let me, Tori, I’ll open up a whole new world to you. I’ll make you fly.”

“The Sex Wars are over, I've been told, and it always makes me want to ask who won. But my sense of humor may be a little obscure to women who have never felt threatened by the way most lesbians use and mean the words "pervert" and "queer." I use the word queer to mean more than lesbian. Since I first used it in 1980 I have always meant it to imply that I am not only a lesbian but a transgressive lesbian -- femme, masochistic, as sexually aggressive as the women I seek out, and as pornographic in my imagination and sexual activities as the heterosexual hegemony has ever believed.”

“And then he absolutely fucked me. I gasped when he pushed in with one hard motion. The feeling of being so full so suddenly when when I was already so wet and teased and ready to go was a buzz of heaven in my head as all other thoughts were pushed away. "You like this," he commented. Another thrust, a moan from me. "You're tighter than you've ever been for me, do you know that?" Another thrust, and all I could do was breathe out the tension that was building in a strained sound of agreement. Hot kisses and hard thrusts soon blurred as both of us chased whatever high of the night we were barreling toward with abandon. I knew my muscles would ache tomorrow. The instinct to resist, to pull, to free myself from the ropes and their constant foreign sensation didn't fall away for a long while. Not being able to run my hands down Caspian's chest, to wrap my arms around his shoulders, hell, to hold on for dear life as he grabbed my hips and filled me. "Fuck, Caspian." I couldn't catch my breath. "Hold on a little longer for me, Madeline," Caspian growled in my ear, then grabbed one of my thighs, lifting it as much as the rope would allow to give himself a deeper reach into me. Hold on, he'd said. I barely managed that; it felt more like I was along for the ride than anything else. Which was probably the ropes' doing, but it still made for one hell of a fuck, and I made mental notes to ask Caspian what else he'd been fantasizing about. He slowed our motion just enough that I whined as he kissed me hard, my hands itching to reach for him, to feel what of him I could, but coming up empty. "Come for me," Caspian commanded. And fuck if I didn't obey. He had me wound so wet, so hot, so tight, that the fall from the climax sent my head spinning. I know I called out some sound that could have been his name or just some scrambled word or other as he hit my inner walls in all the right places. Over and over he thrust, riding out my orgasm until he found his own. I did what I could to catch my breath when Caspian filled me with his heat.”

“That's what's so ironic about the conservative backlash against BDSMers. With increased visibility comes increased bigotry, and conservatives continue to rally against kinky events by local groups to get them shut down. What the anti-kink fanatics don't understand about us is that we're geeks. Sex nerds. SM intellectuals. We pay money to spend a weekend going to classes.”

“Interestingly, forced feminization fantasies are also symbolic representations of our actual life experiences. Because we fi nd the prospect of becoming women so shameful and humiliating, we really do have to be forced into it. We are forced by our unremitting gender dysphoria, by our powerful erotic desires, by our love and admiration for women’s bodies and our wishes to turn our bodies into facsimiles of them, and by our need to honor our strongly held cross-gender identities in order to give meaning and vitality to our lives. If we are prudent, we autogynephilic transsexuals undergo sex reassignment only if we feel we have no other viable alternative: We transition because we feel forced to do so. Forced feminization is, in a very real sense, the story of our lives.”

“He pointed at the paper. “I want you to write me a description of every foot you’ve put wrong since we met. Make sure I can read your writing. You have five minutes.” Write about every foot I’d put wrong. I peered down at my feet. I started to write: My left foot is a size eight point five. It has a high arch, and my big toe is longer than my second toe. There is a light smattering of hair on the top of my foot. I paused and stuck my left leg out, studying my shoe. Right now I am wearing Nike Frees for m— “Bring me your paper.” I glanced at my paper. “I’m not done yet.” “One . . . two . . .” I brought him the paper.”

“I could feel his whole body trying to claim me, want me, own me in lust, and it made me feel so valuable and wanted. As I was bent over the table, I felt like I was the world to him, and he could think of nothing else, could feel nothing else: he was consumed with my body, dedicated to exploring my female sexual power and energy, and his desperate hitting of me with the belt felt like he would rather die, than be without the chance to connect with me in sex.”

“...you make it sound like this is work. I’m having a hard time thinking about sex as a project to manage.” He barely touched the cheeks of her ass, just a little tickle on her flesh, and her muscles clenched. “Only because you don’t take it seriously.” “I take it very seriously,” she shot back. “No, you take the choice of your partner seriously, but not the sex itself. The sex itself you view as something you have to give up to get to what you really want, and that’s companionship and affection. You can’t buy those with sex, Avery. Those will come or not, and it doesn’t mean a damn thing to any man. Not really. He’ll take sex from you even if he doesn’t particularly like you. He’ll take it because you offer it up so easily. Again—not the relationship, but the sex. You’re offering me easy sex. Sex where I don’t have to work, but I want to work because I do like you and I do feel affection for you. Do you understand?” “You think I should ask for more.” “No, I think you should demand more.” “That doesn’t sound very submissive...”

“She reached up with a trembling hand and touched his brow now, rubbing that crease. “You’re really here,” she murmured. “Yes, baby.” He wrapped his hand around hers at his temple and brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them. “You bought me.” She was pretty sure she’d confirmed that fact with him a dozen times already, but he didn’t seem annoyed. “I rescued you the only way I could, Gianna.” His patience was unwavering.”