The Dirtiest Daddy's Taboo

by Alina Nicholson

  "Let me show you, dear," Raven said to Tammy and Jake knew she was taking control of the paddle. Five hard blows landed perfectly centered on Jake's ass in rapid succession. He groaned in pain and Tammy gasped in shock.

  "Don't be afraid," Raven said. "That just got his attention." She then handed the paddle back to Tammy, who began to spank Jake with new enthusiasm, with Raven urging her on. Although Jake was glad that Raven wasn't spanking him any more, the paddle stung his behind and he tried hard not to cry out in pain.

  Raven let the session go on for a while until Tammy was starting to work up a sweat and breathing heavily, her hair ruffled out of place, and beginning to sober up.

  "I think he's had enough," Raven said. She told Tammy where the small bathroom was and suggested that she freshen up while her slave was put back to work. As Tammy headed for the bathroom, Raven ordered Jake to go down to the basement and followed him down the steps.

  Jake wasn't sure exactly what his Mistress had in mind, but her intentions were soon clear enough. She stopped him in about the center of the room. Like most finished basements, Raven's playroom had a ceiling made of acoustic panels that lay in a grid. She quickly removed one of the panels and a pair of chains dropped down. They were bolted to a floor joist above the ceiling and had stout metal cuffs on the ends, which were locked onto Jake's wrists almost before he knew what was happening. Raven ordered him not to say a word and went back upstairs.

  He could hear water running in the bathroom upstairs for a while, and then the sound of two pairs of high heels clicking on the tile in the foyer. There was a muffled conversation between the two women, punctuated by some laughter from Tammy. Eventually he heard the front door open and close, and then only one pair of heels walking around upstairs.

  Now that Tammy had left, Jake assumed that Raven would inspect his housework, do whatever punishment she thought was appropriate, and release him. It had been a long day already and he had lost track of time. He hoped there would be time to take a nap before tonight's gig at Neon's.

  It took longer than expected but eventually Raven came back downstairs, her hair pulled back severely and carrying the familiar black leather bag which she set down on the pool table.

  "Let's get down to business," she said and explained that although he had completed his chores and done a decent job, setting a place for himself at her table had been completely inexcusable. For that he would have to be punished.

  She pulled his boxer shorts out of her leather bag, wadded them up and stuffed them in his mouth. Next, Raven pulled out her riding crop. She stood in front of her terrified slave and lightly tapped him on the balls. He shook his head and tried to beg for mercy but his gagged words could not be understood.

  Raven slowly walked around the helpless Jake, building up the tension and occasionally tapping him lightly with the crop. He flinched nervously each time.

  "I'll give you a reason to jump," she said menacingly and the riding crop bit into the back of his thigh a second later. Unlike the paddle he had been spanked with a short time ago, the crop was a brutal instrument. In Raven's expert hand she could deliver a fierce punishment in a short time, and she liked that efficiency.

  The backs of Jake's thighs were repeatedly struck with the crop. The snap of leather against skin was punctuated with the muffled groans from Raven's helpless slave. At last she stopped and Jake was able to catch his breath.

  "Before I release you, we have another matter to take care of. If you cooperate with me this will be quick and easy. I suggest you cooperate," she said, lightly tapping him on the balls with her riding crop.

  Raven pulled the now soggy boxer shorts from Jake's mouth and set her crop down on the pool table. Fearing what might be next, he saw her pull several videotapes from her bag, along with a pad of paper and pen. It was the collection of videos that she had confiscated from his apartment a few weeks ago.

  "I need some information on how to get in touch with the women on your homemade videos so I can contact them in the future," she explained, walking around the pool table to where a TV / VCR combo was mounted on a shelf high up on the wall. "I suppose that some of them will be more enthusiastic about punishing you than Tammy was."

  Inserting the first cassette into the machine, she let the first few minutes play. Jake watched the familiar scene where Brittany, his girlfriend from two years ago, was lying across her bed wearing only a black lace garter belt and some dark stockings with seams up the back. She looked hotter than he remembered. Jake came into view on the right side of the screen, naked, and Brittany started stroking his cock, which was already hard.

  Although his body hurt badly, Jake started getting aroused. Then Raven stopped the tape and started walking slowly towards him.

  "What is the name of that woman?" she demanded.

  "Brittany," Jake promptly answered.

  "I think you're lying," Raven said casually, pulling her ball slapper from the leather bag. Jake pleaded for mercy and asked her to check his little black book. He was relieved when Raven set down her weapon and fished around in the bag, pulling out the small address book.

  For now, his Mistress seemed satisfied with the name, and wrote down what Jake assumed was the name and phone number on her own note pad. The interrogation continued with only short interruptions while Raven wrote down pieces of information, or gave his vulnerable balls a quick slap because he didn't answer a question fast enough.

  In the grueling session, his Mistress wanted to know how he had met Brittany, the nature of their relationship, how long they had been together, how long ago that was, various sex acts he had performed with her, and other personal information. What seemed to interest Raven the most though, was why the two had broken up.

  Jake had to explain that he and Brittany had been together for about half a year when she caught him cheating with one of his groupies. She had walked out right then and hasn't been in touch since that day. He further volunteered that the groupie was named Tonya, and she became his girlfriend right after that. Tonya was on one of the other videos, he explained.

  Although Jake thought Raven would be pleased that he was spilling his guts, she slapped him viciously on the balls and called him a dirty cheating bastard.

  One at a time, Raven showed a few minutes of each video and would drill him for information about the various women. There was an obvious pattern of Jake's unfaithfulness, and getting caught due to carelessness on his part. This usually resulted in the girlfriend dumping him. Sometimes he was able to start up a new relationship on the spot, as with Tonya. Other times he would meet a new girl at a bar where his band was playing.

  During this long interrogation session, Raven would suddenly cross-examine him on previous questions he had answered. It was lucky for Jake that he was too afraid to try lying to his Mistress.

  When at last she was finished, Jake was covered in sweat and practically hanging from his wrist shackles. Raven released him and as he rubbed his arms to restore the circulation, she pulled his clothes out of her black leather bag.

  He frantically tried to pull his clothes on while Raven occasionally struck him with her riding crop. She practically chased him out the front door.

  "You'll be back again to try and win back one of your tapes, slave. I know you will," she laughed as she stood in the doorway. Jake was too tired and a bit scared to answer as he limped down the sidewalk to his car.

  Driving away from Raven's townhouse and glancing at the dashboard clock, Jake realized that there would barely be time to get home, change clothes, and make it to his gig. Starving, he knew that he'd be stuck eating a supper of bar pretzels once he made it to the club.

  Although Raven had said he would be back, he doubted it. He was certain that she would simply give the videos to the women and give them the chance to paddle him, or worse. He knew that some of them would be delighted if given such a chance. No matter what sort of tempting offer his Mistress Raven might make him in the future, he would have to stay away.

 
; The End.

  In the Library

  Julie was new in town, just here a week. Her husband had taken a new job, one with more responsibility and, just as importantly, more pay. Today was his first full day at the job, and she decided to explore their new home town on her own.

  She'd found the local market and picked up a supply of fresh produce. "Very good quality," she remarked to herself, pleased at the availability since she enjoyed cooking. Lunch in a local restaurant proved quite good as well, and afterwards, a bit of clothes shopping in some little boutiques. In one shop, she found a sheer purple scarf, lightly sequined, that matched the outfit she was wearing. She wrapped it twice around her neck, and found the look of it appealing. The feel was appealing as well; Julie liked the snuggness around her throat. At the desk, she had the clerk take off the price tag so she could wear it right away. It was three p.m. as she left the store; she had saved her favorite place for last, and she had plenty of time to explore it.

  There were only a few cars in the parking lot when she arrived at the public library, and she hoped it didn't mean the collection actually was poor. The building was large and modern in design; reading was her passion, and she already had read that the library was supposed to be one of the best in the state.

  Her fear of disappointment was dispelled as soon as she entered; the central reading room was spacious and filled with natural light, and rows and rows of full bookshelves radiated from the center to the farthest reaches of the building. She started in browsing, just wandering around, picking out books on the basis of a catchy title or an appealing spine design and glancing through them.

  As she turned one aisle, she caught sight of a closed door with a simple black on white sign. "800.001" was all it said. She knew it was a Dewey Decimal number, for sure, but she'd never paid that much attention to the system of classification. Fiction was her choice, and it was always arranged alphabetically in the libraries she had frequented. She tried the door, but it was locked. That surprised her, and her natural curiosity kicked in. She made her way to the Reference Desk to ask about it.

  The chief reference librarian was a man – common enough in universities, but something she hadn't seen in many municipal libraries – and he was good-looking. His sport jacket fit him well, hinting at a matching fit body beneath. He sported a full beard and a full head of hair, both with a bit of gray. Julie thought he looked about fifty-five or so, just about ten years older than herself. As he looked at her, it seemed clear that he found her as attractive as she found him. She blushed slightly, but was pleased that she had decided to wear the black skirt suit and purple silk blouse that she felt so pretty in. She wondered what he would think if he could see the purple lace bra and thong set that lay underneath her suit.

  "Excuse me, Mister...er...," she paused as she noted his name on the desk plate, "Faolain, but I was wondering about a room I saw in the back of the library. There was a sign on the door that said "eight-hundred point oh-oh-one;" could you tell me what that is."

  "Of course, Ma'am," Faolain replied, "That's the Dewey Decimal Number for erotic literature. We keep it locked so that only adults can access those books."

  "Oh," Julie said, "I didn't know there was such a number; I've never seen it at any other library."

  "Most local libraries don't include erotica in their collection," explained the librarian as his eyes wandered over the delicate lines of her face, tracing the beauty of its form and colors, "but we're more liberal here, and there seems to be a good deal of local demand for this genre."

  "Hmm," thought Julie, "this town may prove more interesting than I expected it would."

  The librarian interrupted her train of thought, asking "Would you like me to open it for you?"

  "All right," responded Julie, "if it's not too much trouble."

  "None at all," responded Mr. Faolain, and he led her to the room.

  He held the door and then followed her in, giving her a quick tour of the shelves and showing her to one of the cushioned seats ranged round a massive teak table. Both the table and the chairs seemed antiques, more in a Victorian style than in keeping with the rest of the building and its furnishings. The room itself was darker than the main area as well; the window panes here were richly tinted and the natural light was well shaded.

  "Feel free to browse the shelves, Ma'am," Faolain invited, "you can take any seat to read if you wish." Then he added, "We close at five; come get me when you're finished, please, so I can lock the room."

  Julie thanked him and began to browse as he left, closing the door behind himself. She selected a few books and brought them back to the table to scan. It was a genre only slightly familiar to her, but she quickly grew fond of it, finding sex as arousing to think about as to do. She became thoroughly engrossed in her reading; so engrossed that she lost all track of time, and didn't even hear the closing announcement on the public address system.

  Mr. Faolain thought about her for the rest of the afternoon, even wondering what kind of underwear a woman as lovely and sensual as she would wear. He remembered her eyes, her lips, her long, flowing hair, the sound of her voice, the curves of her hips and breasts beneath her clothes, her fragrance, even the shining sequins on the purple scarf that girdled her long neck. And he remembered also that she was still in the room as closing time came.

  He ushered the library clerks and the few patrons out and then shut the lights as if he were closing. When the parking lot was emptied, when there were none left in the library but himself and Julie, he made his way to the 800.001 room and quietly opened the door.

  Julie was so involved in the images which the words evoked that she didn't hear him enter, nor did she hear him steal up softly behind her. In fact she was completely unaware of his presence until he took hold of the ends of her scarf and pulled the loop snugly around her throat.

  She gasped at the surprise, and then quickly froze. Her mind was lost in some dark recesses of sexual desire, and she hadn't a thought of what she should do.

  "Stand!" Faolain said firmly, with an insistence in his voice, and Julie let go of her book and stood as he lifted the scarf to guide her upwards using it as if it were a collar.

  Faolain tugged the scarf a little bit tighter as he kicked the chair aside.

  "Now, off with your jacket."

  Julie inhaled sharply, and brought her trembling fingers to the buttons, undoing them one by one. The third button open, she slid the jacket back over her shoulders and let it fall from her arms to the floor.

  "Blouse!" was all he said now, and Julie slowly complied, her whole body quivering. Both of them gasped as her blouse glided over her flesh and then over her arms, she, perhaps because of the silken touch on her nervous skin, he, at the sight of the silken skin of her back and shoulders.

  With the ends of the scarf still in his hands, the librarian laid his palms on Julie's shoulders and hooked her bra straps with his fingers. Slowly, very slowly, he drew the straps outward and then down, drawing the scarf tighter around her throat as he dropped the straps down to her elbows.

  He let go of the scarf then, and grasped the outside edges of her bra, pulling the cups tight against her chest, tight across her breasts, tightly containing her stiffening nipples. He kept it tight, dragging the lace down roughly over her breasts until they burst free, bouncing slightly until the wave subsided.

  Faolain's arms encircled hers, and he cupped her full, soft breasts in his palms, squeezing them firmly. "Unhook it," he ordered, and she strained behind herself to undo the hooks and let the purple lace fall forward on to the floor.

  The librarian slid his hands down her sides, letting them come to rest on her hips.

  "Cup your tits in your hands like I did," he ordered, and when she held them both firmly, he added, "Squeeze your nipples between your thumbs and index fingers."

  "Now pull them out and twist them," was his next command. "Further out; stretch them 'til they ache. Twist them hard."

  Julie obeyed, moaning and whimpering as
she tugged and twisted her own nipples.

  Faolain felt himself growing stiffer with each whimper, with each glimpse of her strained breasts. He ran his hands all over her naked back, from her hips to the nape of her neck and back again. He liked what he felt, smooth, hot, a bit of perspiration just starting to form, and his breathing, increasingly heavy, clearly showed it.

  Julie didn't expect it at all when he grabbed her wrists and sharply yanked them down. She squealed as her nipples tore free of her grip and her breasts bounced and jiggled on her chest.

  The librarian sighed deeply at her squeal as he brought her hands to the waistband of her skirt.

  "Undo it," he said tersely, "Drop it to the floor."

  Julie fumbled for the clasp on the waistband, her hands trembling in his grip. She struggled with it a moment before unfastening it and exposing her lacy purple thong.

  He released her wrists and slid his hands around her cheeks as he stepped back a bit to admire her derriere and her legs, the white of her thighs contrasting with the sheer black stockings that sheathed the rest of her legs. Her ass was so tempting, so vulnerable, with its flesh bare on either side of the thong nestled in her crack, that he couldn't resist giving her right cheek a sharp slap of his hand.

  Julie heard him gasp at her little cry, and she imagined the pleasure he was taking from her. She found the thought of him aroused at her distress was arousing her as well, and she felt her furrow begin to fill with fluid. Faolain stood there and smiled at the red imprint of his hand welling up on her ass.

  He paused a moment, savoring the sight, and then quickly slipped his fingers under the thong and lifted it, all in one motion. The thong pulled tight into her crotch, right between her labia, and lifted her ass in the air and her feet off the floor. She began to fall forward, onto the table, but stopped her crash with her hands just before her face and chest could slam into the wood. Her cry of surprise was louder than any she'd yet made, and Faolain's cock jumped at the sound.

  He held her feet off the ground for a moment; then the lace tore and she found herself standing firm on the floor once more. The librarian pushed her feet together with his feet as he undid his zipper and freed his straining organ. It was long and thick, but Julie couldn't see that; she only knew from the sounds -both the zipper and his breaths - what he was doing. He grasped his shaft with his right hand, then, and took hold of the two ends of the purple scarf with his left. He brought his swollen glans to her tightly-closed labia and pulled back on the scarf, drawing her onto him.