Take All of It September 2019

by Scarlett Skyes

  Whenever my knees quavered, I was held up by that iron-grip on my throat and then it did affect my breathing. It was a delicious torture. I had to breathe, but to feel his power around my neck, like my life depended on him was incredible.

  Every movement of his finger against my most private flesh built up this sensation inside me unlike anything I’d ever felt in all my eighteen years. I’d quietly brought myself off before, but Jack was going to make me explode if these warning shots of ecstasy across my bow were anything to go by.

  It wasn’t long before a tingly-buzzing ball of something wonderful inside of me hit some kind of critical mass and detonated in a blinding-white kaleidoscope of pleasure every bit as explosive as I had thought it would be. My hips bucked back and forth, rubbing my own pussy on my step-father’s fingers, and my legs trembled with the effort of supporting at least some of my weight and keeping me from passing out from asphyxiation.

  “Look at me, Haley, look at me,” Jack commanded.

  Through eyelids that desperately wanted to squeeze shut I looked out at the man of my house, whose face filled my vision, inextricably associating itself with everything I was feeling at that moment. I could almost feel the connections being made in my brain, doing what Daddy says equals this kind of pleasure.

  The buzzing feeling in and around my pussy seemed to hum in my ears as my orgasm peaked and then finally faded. I was so weak in the knees that Jack was doing most of the work holding me up. Until he let go, of course.

  I sprawled to the ground as Jack stepped aside, feeling the soft earth under me and the grass from the well-tended lawn just barely tickling my forehead as I panted for air, for control over my own muscles. As I crouched there, I could feel Jack kneeling behind me and I rose up on shaky arms, thinking to remind him of the sheer impossibility of fucking me, but before I could even straighten those arms and look around, I felt his hand grab the hair at the back of my head and force my face into the lawn again.

  “Face down and ass up, Haley. That’s how I’m going to fuck your virginity away.”

  With his spare hand, Jack flipped my skirt up over my back, yanked my panties down to my knees, and I felt the cool air on my sopping wet pussy for a few moments before his heavy cock was slapping against it. Still hyper-sensitive from my recent climax, I yelped and tried to wriggle away, but was held firm in this most subservient of positions, presenting my sex for his use.

  As soon as I felt his thickness pushing my tender pink petals aside I was given an inescapable reminder about the sheer size of him. My pussy was pushed to what I assumed must be its limit, a taut wet ring around the head of his cock and still that bumpy ridge I’d noted before wasn’t inside me.

  “Uhhhhhnnn!” I groaned, wordlessly.

  “Fuck yeah,” said Jack. “You sound just like your au pair.”

  The pressure was relentless, whenever I thought I couldn’t take anymore, another slippery fraction of an inch was forced inside me until I thought for sure I was going to break something, I was really going to be ruined if he tried to get any more dick into my unused teen tunnel.

  I grunted with animalistic triumph, confusion, pleasure and pain when I felt my tight opening slip over the head of my step-father’s cock. It felt like a true achievement, I thought the biggest challenge was behind me, but Jack soon showed me how wrong I was.

  There was no pause, no letting my virgin slit get used to his massive presence, Jack just kept on pushing forward, filling me with dick, so much dick. It wasn’t long before the tip of his cock met with the most token of resistances in the form of my hymen.

  Smack!

  Jack’s hand came down on my ass hard, bringing forth a yelp of surprise and pain from me, which instantly transformed into a short scream as he leaned forward and bore his weight down on my raised ass, driving the full length of his cock into my depths.

  Gentle was clearly not in Jack’s vocabulary as he immediately began fucking me as if I was used to big dicks, instead of the virgin I really was. My eyes watered with the extremity of it all, my squeals and yelps punctuated by the rapid-fire slap slap slap of his pelvis against my ass.

  He’d done the impossible, he’d fit that monster into my pussy, and he was claiming me as his own, fucking me exactly the way he wanted. I held on to the lawn for dear life, feeling my tits shaking with every impact and my knees digging into the ground with the downward pressure he was applying.

  Jack moved both hands to my neck, wrapping his fingers completely around my throat and using that grip to pull my body against him, to maximise the depth he was getting from every powerful thrust, as if he wanted to be sure that he staked his claim all the way to my cervix by right of first contact.

  There was no denying the torturous fire his thickness lit between my legs, but damned if it didn’t feel incredible too, like I was completing some rite of passage. I bet none of my friends at school could have taken a cock like this on their first time, and certainly not the way Jack was giving it to me.

  To my surprise I eventually found myself pushing back against him of my own accord as that fire began to feel suspiciously like that buzzing tingle that had signalled my first orgasm of the night. Jack felt the change in my behaviour and found some way to fuck me even harder, jack-hammering his cock into me until my vision blurred every time our bodies met. It was insane.

  Questions of sanity aside, there was no doubt about the affect it had on me. I was in seventh heaven, if they had hard-fucking step-fathers with massive shafts in that heaven, and I was going to have my first cock-induced orgasm right there on the ground with my shirt ripped open, my face well-slapped, my ass spanked and my pussy utterly punished… and my God it was going to be good.

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the multi-coloured fireworks that burst in front of them and let myself coast, shakily, on my second climax in quick succession. My pussy squeezed and released Jack’s cock over and over again and in the midst of my ecstasy I heard the former-biker grunt as he drove his cock into me particularly hard and blasted my depths with his creamy seed.

  For a brief second, thoughts about the lack of birth control flashed through my mind, but his cum was so hot, it felt so good, I couldn’t bring myself to care. It was his pussy, really, he could cum in it if he wanted, right? Yeah, that was a good enough reason.

  Spurt after spurt joined the first until I felt some of it leaking out of my abused slit and dribbling down my thigh, as my own juices had not so long ago. His contribution felt like so much more though. So much.

  “God damn, you are a good little fuck, Haley,” said Jack.

  “Th-thank you, Daddy,” I panted absent-mindedly.

  Jack’s hands left my neck, roaming all over my body and leaving little shivery trails of tingles everywhere he touched as we caught our breath. Finally he pulled his hard rod out of my pussy and a torrent of his white gold joined the earlier rivulet in running down my thigh.

  I felt so empty without him, as if I’d been given a glimpse of what my purpose in life was, only for it to be taken away. I tried to push backwards, to get him inside me again, but he was already standing up. I rolled to the side and looked up at him as he pulled up his pants and carefully tucked his manhood away.

  “Go inside. Get yourself cleaned up, we’ll talk tomorrow about your new… chores around the house.”

  With that, he walked around the corner and left me there, a cum-soaked mess in a little torn-up patch of lawn. I lost track of time, I had no idea how long it took me before I decided to test the theory that my legs could support my own weight, but eventually I made my way inside and up to my bathroom. I needed a shower and then I felt like I might sleep for a million years.

  Before I stepped under that glorious hot water I caught a look at myself in the mirror. I had bits of grass in my hair, one side of my face was red from the slapping, the other tinged green from being pressed against the ground. My formerly subtle make-up was streaked from my eyes in dark tracks and my inner thighs were similarly streaked
with cum and the evidence of my lost virginity. My knees were muddy and grass-stained.

  I smiled. This was what you should look like after sex. Wrecked, completely used up, spent. I dismissed my earlier thoughts of candles and love songs as childish. This was what I wanted. Every day, if possible.

  I was going to have to dump Greg and get myself a bad boy… or really throw myself into my new chores around the house.

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  Dethroning Little Princess Imogen

  Description

  She had no idea what it would really be like to be taken like that...

  Imogen is such a little princess. The man of her house, Jarrod Steed, has the whole city in his pocket and that has been both a blessing and a curse. You see, what Imogen wants more than anything is to be taken hard no matter how much she protests. The way she sees it, if a real man really wants her, then surely there wouldn't be anything that could stand in his way, especially not Imogen herself!

  Unfortunately everybody in town is scared of Jarrod and what might happen if they treated Imogen that way, so in desperation to have her first time fulfil every one of her fantasies she finally caves and decides to do everything she can to lure Jarrod himself into fulfilling them. Imogen has seen the marks on the lady of the house before, has heard the sounds coming from their bedroom, but nothing can fully prepare her for the way Jarrod takes her hard and without protection in the stables when she gets him alone. There's nothing gentle about Jarrod Steed, and he will not pull out until he is good and finished!

  If this little princess wants to be the queen, she's going to have to take everything the king can give her.

  Kinks/Sub-Genres

  Pseudo-Incest, Breeding, Rough Sex, Stepfather, Stepdaughter, Virgin, Schoolgirl

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  *****

  Growing up rich was both a blessing and a curse for me. On one hand it let me surround myself with the only kind of lifestyle I could imagine enjoying. I liked to buy pretty things, have the most expensive clothes, and what teenager wouldn’t want their own style consultant, right?

  I had all the right friends, my place in the best college was pre-paid, and I had no shortage of young men from the right families asking me on dates if I decided I’d rather spend my life shopping and working on my tan rather than using that college degree. The problem was they were all so… polite.

  Since my step-father, Jarrod Steed, was Governor of the whole state, we were practically royalty in the small city we called home. Once he landed the new job he spent a lot of time away from the house doing whatever Governors were expected to do, but his stamp on the city remained with all the wildly successful companies he founded before embarking on his political career, all the contacts he had, and so on.

  Sometimes it felt like half the city was in his pocket and the way things were going, there were rumours that he might even aim for president in the long run. Suffice to say, he was a powerful man around town.

  Whenever he came home, I let myself indulge in a guilty pleasure I would never have admitted to anybody. After he took my mom to their bedroom at the end of the night, you wouldn’t have believed the sounds that came out of there.

  Thumps and crashes, squeals, yelps, grunts, moans, groans and even screams, you name it. The following morning my mom always had fresh bruises, a big smile and looked like she was walking on air.

  I would slip out into the hallway and sit outside the door pretending it was me Jarrod was using like that. Nothing else I heard, saw, or could imagine ever brought me off quicker and harder than imagining a man overpowering me like that and taking what he wanted from my body.

  That was the core of my problem. None of the boys from my school, or anywhere else, who I went on dates with were anything less than gentlemen. They were all too afraid of my step-father. Some of them even showed up in suits and ties asking my parents’ permission to ask me out on a date.

  It was almost embarrassing. To me, there was something not quite right about an eighteen year old high school student showing up on somebody’s doorstep dressed like he was going to a wedding and asking permission for something like a date.

  Where were the men like Jarrod? Where were the guys that went out and took what they wanted? The ones who didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer? The idea of it made me so fucking hot, but the only one I’d ever met who was like that was Jarrod himself and he was off limits for obvious reasons.

  Still, I went on dates and hoped for the best. When they asked if they could kiss me I said no, that I didn’t do that on first dates, in the hopes that they would do it anyway. I mean, if they really wanted me, they would take me, right?

  That’s the way I thought of it. If they really wanted to be with me then there wouldn’t be anything that could stop them, not even me. Especially not me.

  Well, none of them ever pressed the issue after I said no. Some of them at least didn’t ask for a kiss and they got my hopes up. After making out for a while though, they always checked to see if I was OK with things and I would tell them that I didn’t want to do anything before marriage.

  Instead of slapping my face and ripping my clothes off they always started listing off why they thought that, one day, they’d make great husbands and couldn’t I just maybe, pretty please, take my shirt off or something. It was frustrating beyond all belief.

  Everybody was treating me like a little princess and it was driving me crazy. I was short and slim, I should have been easy to throw around, to hold down, to overpower, but people seemed to think that those facts simply made me delicate.

  When puberty seemed to take a second-swing at my body and gave my breasts an impressive second growth spurt, enough to really push the front of my shirts out, I even accepted dates from the so-called bad boys. Even then, I never found one willing to push my boundaries, let alone smash right through them.

  By the time I was eighteen and nearing the end of my final year of high school, I felt like I was losing my mind. My grades started slipping because these fantasies of my history (or math, or English) teacher bringing back corporal punishment and then fucking me on his desk dominated my thoughts when I should have been thinking about the lesson.

  Sometimes I was so turned on that I could give myself a semi-satisfying orgasm just by wiggling in my seat a little bit and squeezing my thighs together in just the right way. I was daydreaming about being abducted and having my virginity taken by a masked man when I was pulled over by the police for having apparently breezed straight through a stop sign.

  I undid a couple of buttons and hoped he would teach me a good lesson in his squad car, but when he saw my license, he told me to drive safely and then left. I could have screamed.

  As far as I could tell, I was almost constantly wet. My body was screaming out at me to find a man who would treat me the way I wanted to be treated, to dismiss my refusals like they were meaningless and fuck my virginity away hard.

  I could barely think straight, it was quickly crossing the line from a want to a need every bit as essential as air and water. One night as I lied there trying to sleep, I decided I had to do something about this
situation or I’d be living in a padded room soon.

  I decided to pull out all the stops, to try and put such irresistible bait in front of Jarrod that he wouldn’t be able to help himself. From my privileged position just outside my parents’ bedroom door, I knew what kind of man he was behind the public image and I hoped I could bring that out of him, make him want to fuck me so bad that it would overrule the fact that he’d been my step-father for over sixteen years.

  *****

  It was only a couple of weeks later that my opportunity presented itself. I knew Jarrod was going to be back on Saturday morning, and I knew my mom was away visiting family until Saturday evening, so I’d have him all to myself for a few precious hours.

  The Friday beforehand, I went to the beautician and it seemed like just about every square inch of my body from the neck down was devoid of hair, I had my eyebrows threaded and I bought this amazing sparkly pink lip gloss that tasted faintly of strawberries, I loved it.

  Overnight, I barely slept. Every time I did fall asleep I was bombarded with vivid dreams about what might happen. It was annoying because they were all so realistic, starting off from me waking up in bed and getting ready for Jarrod to come home and then doing my best to get him to take me. Then, just as he was about to, I would wake up and find I’d been dozing for about thirty minutes.

  Eventually I woke up for real and pinched myself to make sure. Today was the big day. Butterflies were swarming in a crazy multi-coloured blizzard in my tummy, and as I sat up I could feel that all those dreams had made a slippery mess of my pyjama bottoms.

  I showered and somehow managed to resist the urge to turn the showerhead on to ‘massage’ and point it between my legs. Whoever managed to incorporate that little marital aid into an innocent-looking showerhead deserved a Nobel Peace Prize as far as I was concerned, but today I was saving myself for something I hoped would be everything I’d ever dreamed of and more. Especially my most recent dreams.