Taboo Unchained

by C. M. Stunich

  “Oh is this all?” she asks with a chuckle, sliding her hardened nipples against my back.

  “The sad part is,” I growl, letting Audra work my cock up into a raging fury of testosterone and desperation, “it's not. This is only part of my collection.”

  “Then you're a naughty, naughty boy, aren't you, Lucas Carter?”

  “As if you didn't know?” I ask, grabbing her wrist and picking up the handcuffs. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I capture a wink from Audra, and slip them on her right wrist first. I extract myself from Audra's grip with a grimace, pre-cum leaking into the black fabric of my briefs. “On your back on the bed,” I command, enjoying the little snarl in her lip. Audra likes to be dominated, but it goes against the very nature of her beast. How fucking delightful.

  I hook my new friend up to the headboard with the cuffs and set a few other goodies on my nightstand for later. The body contact cable goes back in my waistband, and I hit the foot switch again, sending the electricity buzzing up the line. The violet streaks are drawn to the metal and as soon as my fingers touch Audra's breasts, the spark travels up her body and collects at her wrists. Instead of screaming or moaning, Audra bites down hard on her red, red lips, smearing her makeup. My fingers knead her tits, thumbs sliding over her nipples until she's squeezing her eyes tight and letting small squeaks sneak past her tightened lips.

  “So, Audra, tell me, what's the nastiest thing you've ever done? I want to hear it from your lips while I fuck you.” I stay seated between Audra's open legs, letting her control how much physical contact we have. She pinches her thighs closed and grunts at the rush of power in her legs, I smile. Audra isn't a delicate flower, not like Robbie Carrell. I don't have to be careful around her, don't have to worry if she'll break. Audra can match me, dark for dark, pain for pain, without going too far, like Margarite Simmons. I like that about her. That's what it is, this strange draw I've felt from the first moment I saw her. What it means, I'm not sure. Maybe nothing, perhaps everything. For right now, all I need is the feel of her body against mine, my cock inside her heat. But that's the end goal, not the journey.

  I grab a pair of metal nipple clamps from the nightstand and clamp them to Audra's tits, tasting the bite of the electricity in my fingers before I pull away and retreat between her thighs, finding that sweet heat with my tongue and sliding it up along her clit. My fingers follow next, burying themselves in warm, silken wetness. Audra screams again, letting her monsters claw at the air through her throat. I can feel the build of anger and pain that always comes with a release of the taboo. I've been doing this for a long, long time. When I pull my hand away, Audra throws the wrath of the gods in my face, sitting up and glaring at me with daggers that, by all rights, should kill.

  “You better not be stopping again, you sick son of a bitch.” I smile wickedly as I kick off the foot switch again and grab a silicone cock off the nightstand, sliding the purple dick against her red lips. My mouth finds Audra's and we kiss again, deep and hungry, like we actually know one another, as if this meeting is taking place years in the future and not just a week after we met. Our tongues dance as I fondle the nipple clamps, tugging on the metal and flicking the black feathers with my fingers.

  “Audra, darling, I'm just getting started.” I grab a condom next and slip that onto the cock, diving down between those creamy thighs with a bottle of lube. “And I plan on fucking your ass, so you might want to relax.” I take a bottle of lube with me and slather Audra up, massaging the clear liquid into her pussy, onto her clit, letting it drip down her ass cheeks and wishing it was my cum. The purple dick slips quickly into Audra's ass with little resistance.

  “God, that feels so fucking good,” she whispers, letting me push the toy in until the rubber balls slap her pale, white ass. I slide it out slowly, enjoying the stretch of her body, the increasing pitch of her moans, the dripping of the lube across my fingers.

  And then I just snap.

  The beast claws onto me and refuses to let go, pushing my briefs down and sliding my cock balls-deep inside Audra's tight pussy. I can feel the toy press against me as I start to fuck, throwing my head back with a relieved sigh, my hands clamping down on her hips like handles. Audra screams in pleasure as the darkness takes over and my vision flickers dangerously. But I won't black out, won't let the demon take over and destroy this moment for me.

  “You're full of me, Audra,” I growl, bending low and breathing across her face. “Absolutely stuffed. Can you even breathe with all of that dick inside of you?” Audra doesn't respond, her cheeks flushed pink with desire, lips slightly parted. Her body is convulsing around mine, pressing my dick against the hard pressure of the cock in her ass. The sound of rock music mixes with the guttural slap of our bodies and the rapidly ascending cries breaking from Audra's throat. It's a symphony I could listen to over and over and over again.

  “Lucas,” Audra breathes, just a split second before she tosses her head back, bucking beneath me and rattling the handcuffs at her wrists. When she comes, I come, and I watch as our twisted bodies collapse together in a sweaty heap.

  For the first time in years, I fall asleep with a woman in my arms.

  A few hours later, I wake to Audra poking at me with her foot.

  “Lucas.” She sounds near to tears. I crack open my eyes and look at Audra's twisted facial expression, red hair stuck to her sweaty skin, green eyes wide. “My arms are a-fucking-sleep. Dear God, please get these handcuffs off.” With a low chuckle, I oblige, grabbing the keys from the nightstand and releasing her. “Jesus Christ,” Audra groans, letting her head fall back into the pillows. Into my pillows. There's a woman in your bed, Lucas. The thought makes me squirm, but I can't deny how good it feels. It makes those brief and fleeting moments where I miss Isadora seem inconsequential and somewhat childish. Isadora is nowhere near Audra, not in darkness, in spunk, even in physical beauty.

  My lips twitch.

  “Never fell asleep in a pair of cuffs before. Ugh. And I don't know that I'll ever do that again.” Audra shakes her arms out and stretches, leaning over to peer at the clock next to my bed. Eleven-thirty. So more of a nap than anything else. Still, this was a big step for me, for the beast. “I'm going to use the bathroom, if you don't mind.” Audra leans over and presses her mouth to my neck. “Maybe take a shower?” She pulls away and stands up, unashamed of her beautiful body or the discarded toy lying at the end of the bed. My inner need for cleanliness quivers at the sight, but I manage to offer up a somewhat realistic smile.

  “Make sure you leave the door unlocked,” I whisper as she turns away with a wink and disappears with the soft sound of padding footsteps. For a moment, I just lie there and stare at my white ceiling, the one I spent a whole day scraping to remove the 'popcorn' effect. Hmm. So many thoughts are twirling through my mind that I almost overlook the sound of a car pulling up outside. Almost. But in this neighborhood of families and senior citizens, a car at this hour is rare, if not entirely unheard of. When the engine continues to rattle, I'm drawn from my thoughts and over to my bedroom window. My first thought is that Clarice is back, taking her stalking to a whole new level, but the vehicle outside is a green Taurus, something Mrs. Braxton wouldn't be caught dead in.

  I turn away from the window and grab the black robe off the hook behind my bedroom door, tossing it over my shoulders. The tiki torches have long since burned out, but the back door is still wide open, letting in God only knows what sorts of pests. I wrinkle my nose and move down the steps, retrieving the now inedible tray of bruschetta along with our wine glasses. I set everything on the counter and open the fridge, searching for the filet mignon and finding it right where I left it, next to a head of romaine lettuce. It's certainly not too late for dinner, and I don't know about Audra, but our encounter has left me … ravenous.

  I smile and glance at the bruschetta again. It's not something Lucas Carter would do, eat an old piece of bread covered in cold cheese, but I do it anyway. I put the food to my mouth and lea
n against the kitchen island, closing my eyes with the pleasure of taste. Such an overlooked sense. I finish the bread and pour two fresh glasses of wine. I'm feeling adventurous tonight. Perhaps Audra and I could try something strange … like a bath together?

  “I still dislike the woman,” I say, more for my own benefit than for anyone else's. Outside the window, I catch the faint drift of music and the still running engine of the car. Call it … instinct if you want, but something about that noise causes me to set the wine glasses down on the bookshelf and move towards the living room window. I stand in the place where my couch used to be and pull apart the curtains. The outside air is still warm at this hour, but the windows of the car are slightly fogged up, and I can see movement inside. The glaring orange of the streetlights kills my night vision and makes it difficult to see what exactly is going on in there, but I can take a guess. It's a wild one, but I decide to check, just in case. What's the worst that could happen?

  I jog back to my bedroom and retrieve a pair of slippers before heading out the front door and storming across the lawn. The farther I move, the angrier I get. The monster scratches violently at my psyche, begging for violence, for blood. When I reach down for the door handle, I'm actually surprised to find that it's unlocked.

  “Stop it, Jules,” a familiar voice slurs, thick with alcohol and barely conscious. “I said stop. Take me home, okay? I just want to go home.” This person, this Jules, is apparently too drunk to notice that I'm standing behind him with the door open and continues to grope a pair of bare breasts, slapping sloppy kisses to the soft nipples of the practically comatose young woman in his arms. Her black and white gingham dress is pushed up, but her underwear are still in place.

  “You are home, baby,” Jules says, reaching down and unzipping his pants. His blonde head wavers in my vision for a split second before my hand snaps out and wraps around the back of his neck, dragging him from the car before he even gets a chance to scream. Without thinking, I slam Jules' head against the side of the car, cracking something – either his skull or the window, I'm not sure – in the process. Nobody screams; it happens too fast. The only reason I don't continue, don't shed every drop of blood from his body into a pool on the cement, is because Robbie climbs out of the car and throws her arms around my waist.

  “Luke,” she sobs, sliding to her knees behind me. Her body stays pressed into mine, but her crying doesn't stop. “Luke, I'm so sorry.” I glance around quickly, checking over my shoulder to make sure the Carrells aren't pouring out onto the doorstep to check on their daughter. The lights are on, and I can see the faint flicker of a TV screen behind the curtain, but nobody comes out to check. I take the opportunity to grab Jules and shove him back in the car, snatching the keys from the ignition and putting them in the pocket of my robe. I lock the doors and close him inside his own vehicle. There's a slight trickle of blood from his head, but I think he's passed out from the alcohol and not the injury. If I'm wrong, and he has a concussion or something, who the fuck cares?

  I leave Jules where he is and pick Robbie up in my arms, carrying her into my house without a second thought. If it's not the smartest idea I've ever had, it may just very well be one of the most pure.

  “Luke,” Robbie drawls, her head tucked against my chest. “I am so, so sorry.” I have no clue what she's apologizing for, but it doesn't matter. Robbie is beyond drunk, trapped in a haze of alcohol that I'm not about to try to break. Instead, I pause in the living room and kick the door closed behind me. Since I am still sans couch, the only place to lay the young woman before she passes out is in my bed. The bed I just fucked Audra in. I grit my teeth and shiver as a wave of guilt clashes through me. What am I doing? What the hell is going on? These two women are making my head spin, and I'm not sure how to process it all. Just a short while ago, I felt so proud of myself. I felt different. Things were changing. Now I just feel panicked. The Lucas Carter I was a week ago is gone now; this much I know. Whoever is planning to step in his shoes had best be ready though. The ride is going to be a rough one.

  I move down the hallway quickly and deposit Robbie onto the bed, scrambling to collect the fucking dildo, the violent wand kit, the other sex toys. I shove them all in the box and cover them with the sheets, cringing at the unsanitary conditions my poor wooden chest is now suffering through. Rising to my feet, I strip the blankets and the top sheet, replacing them with fresh linens. By this time, Audra Holiday is starting to realize that I won't be getting into the shower with her.

  “Lucas,” she says, appearing in the kitchen while I'm filling up a glass of water from the fridge dispenser. “I got the wine. What are you up to?” Audra salutes me with the wine glass and takes a sip, leaning against the wall in nothing but her smooth, beautiful flesh. Droplets of warm water shimmer on her breasts, the red curls between her legs, her lips. I don't have the luxury of appreciating the sight.

  With a sigh, I turn and face Audra, my mind running across the words I have to say. Truth. It's not something I'm used to, not in this life, but … if I'm making changes, I may as well go all the way.

  “Robbie Carrell is in my bedroom,” I admit, and watch as Audra's red eyebrows raise. She takes another sip of her wine.

  “How? Why?” I struggle for the right thing to say. Because I like her right back. It's too juvenile, too sugar coated and full of fairy fucking dust to say aloud.

  “She was in the process of being raped in a car outside.” Audra's lips part in surprise and her hand rises to cover her mouth.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she snarls, the darkness in her body an almost visible twist of energy around her pale body. “Who the fuck by?”

  “Her date,” I snap back, my anger directed at this boy, this Jules. “I don't think he managed to get as far as he would've liked however.” My teeth feel like sandpaper, grinding against one another as I struggle to speak. The entire situation infuriates me. I am sick of seeing the light corrupted by the dark, the pure poisoned by the impure, the magic in this world decimated by people like Audra's father, my father, this fucking blonde kid in a green Taurus.

  Audra sighs and finishes her wine.

  “Well, you did the right thing then,” she tells me, her green eyes focused on the curtained windows that face Robbie's house. “Even though I'm a bit bummed we didn't get to try anymore tricks in your magic bag.”

  “I can still cook you dinner,” I say, but the request doesn't sound all that inviting. Both of our gazes catch on the melted candles that line the dinner table. Audra doesn't need to speak to hear my answer. “Tomorrow then?”

  “Call me tomorrow, Lucas. Let's talk.”

  Audra starts to turn away.

  “Not about being business partners,” I state bluntly. “If that's what you want to talk about, I have no reason to call.” My new redheaded friend simply laughs at me and disappears into my bedroom to collect her clothing. When she comes back out, she's fully dressed.

  “I had a great time tonight. Really. I … ” Audra sighs and shakes her head like she's thought better of what she was about to say. When she moves up to me and presses a kiss to my lips, I let her. “Goodnight, Lucas.”

  Audra disappears out the front door and lets it slam shut behind her.

  I wait until I hear her car pull down the driveway before heading into my bedroom. Robbie is thoroughly out of it, but I force her to sit up and press the glass of water against her lips.

  “Go away,” she groans, but I don't stop until she swallows a few mouthfuls and collapses back into the pillows. A quick search in my medicine cabinet reveals an unopened bottle of ibuprofen. I refill her water glass and drop a few of the pills next to it on the nightstand before closing the bedroom door behind me and heading into the living room.

  I sit down in the brown leather wingback chair that faces the corner between the fireplace and the front window and lean my head against the back, eyes closed. For whatever reason, I'm exhausted. I suppose it's not easy to relearn one's ingrained behavior. My fingers
tap a steady rhythm against the chair, a good background noise for my thoughts.

  I sit there the rest of the night, until the sun comes up, and a frantic knock sounds at my door.

  I try not to be frustrated when I rise to my feet and check out the peephole.

  It's Robbie's fucking father.

  A strange shiver of fear punctures my heart before I clamp down on it and get the emotion under control. Without hesitation, I open the door and face the early morning sunrise and the pale face of a terrified man.

  “G-good morning,” Mr. Carrell stutters, running his fingers through his dark brown hair. It's the exact same shade as Robbie's. Behind him, a blonde woman I've always known as Robbie's mother, stretches her hands in front of her and rocks nervously back and forth. Now that I know the truth, I can see she looks a little like Robbie's younger sister and not at all like her elder daughter. “I know it's early, and I'm sorry, but I … God. Robbie's missing. She went out on a date last night, and when she didn't come back, I called the police. We found her boyfriend's car across the street, but he was passed out from alcohol poisoning.” Mr. Carrell spews this information into my face while I stand stone still and stare at him in the calmest, most passive manner I can manage. Fortunately, I can look like a statue when I want to. It's one of my very special skills. Like fucking. I try not to smirk. I am much, much better at fucking. “He's in the hospital right now, and he says he doesn't remember a thing.” Mr. Carrell swallows and glances back at his wife before returning his blue eyes back to mine. “He has a concussion as well. I mean … the car doors were locked, but his face is bruised, and it looks like he got into a fight. We believe Robbie might've been abducted from the car after Jules passed out.”