The Sub: A BDSM Short by Shannon Saint Roux

Mark has long been curious about BDSM, but has always been too timid to act on these desires. Having just gotten out of a long, passionless relationship, though, he’s finally ready to explore these curiosities. After going on a couple of unsuccessful dates, he meets Kate, a woman who not only seems to have an interest in BDSM, but just might be an expert. Mark accepts her invitation to come to her house, but is still wary and cautious—and even more so when he finds himself alone in her “dungeon.” Is Kate a real BDSM seductress or just an internet scammer? Will Mark at last get the chance to explore his darkest, kinkiest desires, or is he just being setup? Read “The Sub,” an unputdownable work of literary erotica by Shannon Saint Roux, to find out!

Category: Erotica Tags: BDSM, bondage, erotica, Shannon Saint Roux, tinder

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About the author:

Shannon Saint Roux lives in New York City and is a writer of erotica. Follow Shannon on Twitter @SSaintRoux

What inspired you to write your book?

My goal was to write a work of erotica that had literary merit as well as entertainment value. I started writing as a hobby years ago. This story is a mixture of real-life experience and fantasy.

Here is a short sample from the book:

Mark had been on Tinder for three months and so far had gone on two dates. The first had been with a Korean woman who’d said she was 35 (six years Mark’s junior), and, in her photos, not only looked like a model, but, based on a picture of her in the Museum of Sex (in which she wore a sexy black dress), possessed an element of kink that Mark had long wanted to explore but hitherto hadn’t—a consequence of shyness, and an inability, or lack of resolve, to find a partner with similar proclivities. But upon meeting the woman for drinks, Mark saw that, sans air brushing, she was at least 43 (she’d later tell Mark that she was, in fact, 44, blithely adding that all women lied about their age on Tinder). Additionally, she was frigid—but in a way more suggestive of a prim schoolmarm than a BDSM seductress. The date ended with her and Mark stiffly embracing and then going their separate ways, never to communicate again. Mark then arranged a date with a sexily roly-poly 27-year-old, who, in her photos, on top of showing much cleavage (giving Mark a tantalizing preview of what her breasts would’ve looked like naked), possessed a style—tall black Doc Martens, tight black dress with frilly sleeves and a lowcut neckline, dyed black hair, 10 or 12 earrings in each ear (and a ring in her lip)—that suggested an interest in the adventurously erotic. Upon meeting this young woman, though, Mark realized that if such a tendency existed, it only did so in the most submissive way. As they sat in a coffeeshop on a rainy Sunday afternoon, the girl struck Mark as meek and unconfident, characteristics that might’ve been alluring, even essential, for a more aggressive—i.e., dominant—person, yet for Mark weren’t so much attributes as they were flaws. At the date’s conclusion, Mark told the young woman that he’d had a nice time, embraced her, and—as with the Korean woman—never contacted her again.
But Mark still went on Tinder daily. Whom he hoped to find he wasn’t sure, except that this person should possess some of the interests about which Mark was curious—if not a lifestyle embracing such tastes. Mark’s last relationship, which had ended six months ago, had lasted five years; and it seemed impossible, in retrospect, that it had endured that long. But people, he supposed, get used to each other; grow afraid to be apart once familiarity is established. And though Mark should’ve ended the relationship long ago—she was a cute, buxom hairdresser who, although initially decent in bed, soon thereafter made love in such a routine way that sometimes when having sex with her Mark would feel as if he were cheating himself out of a world of undiscovered pleasures simply by staying with this woman—he vowed, after their breakup—Tanya had been more upset than Mark, something which, in turn, made her even more hysterical—never to fall into such a trap again; to find a woman willing to explore with him all parts and aspects of sexuality he was curious about—and maybe a few others to boot. So determined was Mark, that following these two unsuccessful dates, he considered joining one of the “alternative” dating websites, the kind whose websites feature dungeon motifs and whose participants (if they are even real) are adorned in leather and brandish whips in their profile pics.
But one Friday afternoon, Mark received a notification from Tinder informing him that Kate likes you! and, as always when he received a “like,” Mark scanned through profiles, swiping left or right according to the matches’ attractiveness, until “Kate” appeared. She had three photos, all in black and white, albeit each one piqued Mark’s interest: a photo of two thighs in fishnets, one leg crossed over the other, the woman’s figure sensuously curvy, and—most intriguing—a hand in a black latex glove resting on one of the thighs; a photograph of lips adorned in coruscating black or purple lipstick, a wet tongue’s tip peeking out, curving upward; and, lastly—the photo that caused Mark’s heartbeat to increase—an image of a woman’s foot, the toes perfectly manicured, in an black open toe stiletto heeled sandal. But even more exhilarating was the flogger whip lying next to the shoe, curled like a dormant snake.