Family Forbidden Taboo Erotica for Women Box Set

by Patricia Parks

  "Tomorrow," he said, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her face up so she could see him, "I'm going to put you over my knee and rip your panties down and beat your ass with my belt."

  Her lower lip trembled. He'd never used his belt on her bare ass before, only with panties. His hand, plenty. Once even her hairbrush. Never his belt.

  "Please!"

  "Shut the fuck up."

  She closed her mouth. He had that tone again. With that punishment looming over her, she knew not to argue, not to make him angrier. Sometimes, very rarely, she did get off on good behavior. She hoped this one be one of those times.

  "You want me to keep fucking you?" He asked.

  She nodded, flushed.

  "Yeah, you liked it?"

  She nodded again but felt uneasy. He was going somewhere with this.

  "Get back on your belly. Spread your legs."

  She obeyed. He grabbed a pillow and placed it under her chin, which she thought odd. Strangely considerate. The uneasiness in her stomach was growing. Her heart was pounding.

  "When I say I don't want to hear a fucking word out of you," he said to the back of her head, "I fucking mean it. Cry all you fucking want. I don't care. But not one fucking word. Are we clear?"

  She nodded.

  He grabbed lube from the drawer, another thing she found odd as she was still very wet. And he grabbed a condom. Stranger still. She was on birth control and had been for years.

  "Not a fucking word," her reminded her. He put the condom on and covered it with lube. She trembled as he climbed over her. Suddenly the pieces fell into place.

  "Wait!" She cried out.

  His hand came down on her behind with brutal force. "What the fuck did I tell you?"

  She shut her mouth and buried her face in the pillow and tried to calm down. She knew she had to relax.

  He pulled her ass cheeks apart and applied a bit of lube to her asshole. His erection was back in full force, encouraged by her muffled sobs. He positioned himself at her asshole -- he thought about fingering her first, very briefly, before deciding against it -- no, he wanted it to hurt. He wanted to make her sorry.

  He pushed his head in slowly. He knew to take it easy. He was sadistic but he didn't want to injure her. Another centimeter.

  "Please don't!" She begged. "Please."

  He grabbed her by the hair. "Not a fucking word, why don't you listen?"

  "Please." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I don't want this."

  "I know."

  "Please, Julian, please."

  His glare softened. She was really afraid. He pulled out and sat back for a moment. "Do you trust me?"

  "Yes, but--"

  "You trust me. So trust that I know what I'm doing."

  "I don't want this, please," she was becoming frantic.

  "I don't care whether you want this or not. I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for me."

  "Please."

  He was getting impatient. Climbing back over her, he ignored her pleas and wrapped his hand around her throat until no sound came out. "Shut the fuck up and listen to what I have to say. If you say another word I will shove my dick down your throat until you pass out, and then I will fuck your ass as hard as I fucking want, and you don't want that, do you Katie?"

  She shook her head. He could feel her shaking.

  "I am going to fuck your ass tonight no matter what. I don't care if I have to tie you to the bed. I don't care if I have to shove your fucking panties down your throat. I don't care if you have to take more of your fucking pills. It's going to happen." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "You trust me. You said you trust me. Well fucking trust me when I say you need to relax. You're scared, that's fine. It'll hurt, I know that. Frankly I don't fucking care. But I'm being kind here. If I wasn't I would be reaming your fucking ass right now. I'll go slowly at first, but seriously, you need to relax or this will be a lot worse than it has to be."

  "You won't--?"

  He interupted her, knowing what she was going to ask. "I'll finish in your cunt, don't worry."

  She was relieved. Still terrified, but relieved. The final moment before his orgasms were brutal, always -- his penis was big enough, wide enough, and he was rough enough that is hurt -- it really hurt, no matter how much she had been enjoying herself before. It was as if the only times he really lost control were when he was coming.

  "I don't want to hear another word," he said. "If I do I'll use my belt on you right now, Katie. I'm drunk and I'm angry and you. Do. Not. Want that."

  She nodded.

  "Back on your fucking stomach," he ordered. Then, "the pillow is there for you to bite if the pain gets to be too much,"

  Katie sobbed in acknowledgement.

  Julian climbed over her once more. After applying more lube, he pushed the head of his penis into her ass. He waited a few seconds, then pushed a little further. Katie was no longer crying, although occasionally a whimper would escape her lips.

  Further he pushed. Still slowly. He was in about halfway. Katie squeezed her eyes shut and unconsciously cleched the muscles.

  "Loosen up," he warned.

  She tried. The more she focused the the more tense she became.

  Julian pulled out completely and Katie let out a sob of relief, but it was premature. He added more lube to his penis first, and then her asshole, and returned to his task.

  This time he wasn't quiet as patient. He entered her in one swift motion, stopping at the place he had been before. Katie bit the pillow which muffled her shriek.

  Centimeter by centimeter, Julian pushed himself deeply into her asshole. She was crying now.

  "I'm in," he grunted when, finally, she had taken most of his length -- he knew he wouldn't be able to go any further. He pulled out slowly and pushed himself back in again. Katie sobbed. He pulled out slowly again, pushed in again. "You're okay," he assured her gently. "The worst part is over."

  He was short of breath as his thrusts became more rythmic, and he considered very seriously breaking his word and finishing in her ass anyway -- but he knew he couldn't. His movements became swifter, more regular, and although Katie was sobbing into her pillow she was getting wet. She liked it. She really did like it. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt like hell.

  He picked up his pace, getting rougher. Grabbing her by the hair he asked , "you like this?"

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "You're a whore." He pulled out, panting. Katie was panting too.

  Julian ripped the condom off and tossed it to the floor. He grabbed Katie's leg and flipped her over onto her back, and without hesitation he was buried deep in pussy with his thumb rubbing her clit. She tried to push his hand away -- she was too sensitive and he was too rough, the whole thing would be more enjoyable if she could do it herself -- but he ignored her.

  "Nuh--" she gasped. She was close. It hurt. Each time he brought his thumb over it her legs spasmed. He felt it. That just encouraged him to increase his speed.

  "Jul..." She was short of breath, could hardly form words. Each time he entered her it was like the wind got knocked out of her.

  "Julian, you have to slow down."

  "I don't have to do anything."

  "Please stop, please...let go..."

  "Beg me," was his gutteral reply.

  She was too proud. Instead she just closed her mouth and lay her head to the side so she didn't have to look at him.

  Suddenly he grabbed her by the face and slapped her across the cheek. He had pulled out of her and was now sitting on her stomach. She stared down his glistening cock between her breasts.

  "I fucking told you to beg me," He snarled, yanking on a handful of her hair. "It's either that or I fuck your throat -- your choice."

  She did not want him to fuck her throat. Not when he was drunk, not when he was angry.

  "Please fuck me," she whispered.

  "Where? What hole?"

  She blushed. He knew she was shy about things like that.

&nb
sp; "Huh?" He demanded, slapping her again.

  "My p...my pussy. Please."

  "My pussy," he corrected her.

  She nodded.

  He pushed himself back into her, watching her face closely for any sign of distress. None yet.

  "I told you to fucking beg me," he reminded. "I want you to beg me."

  She nodded again.

  He picked up where he left off, ramming into her cunt -- which accepted him readily -- and abusing her scandalized clit, with each touch sending shock waves through her body. He picked up the pace on both fronts.

  "Please," she whimpered, trying to grab his hand again. "Please, please, Julian. Please slow down. Please -- ah -- no, no, no, no...please no more, please slow down."

  "Keep going," he grunted. "Keep begging." He was getting close. "Please let me finish myself. Please, oh! Please, oh no, no, no..."

  He pressed harder, moved faster, in circular movements his thumb worked her clit. He felt his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach and he wanted to make her cum with him. He wanted her insides to milk his cock. And, of course, he wanted it to hurt.

  "Please!" She was almost in tears. "Please Jules, oh please!" She was pulling at his hand frantically. Her legs spasmed, she tried pressing them together to push him out but it was impossible.

  "No no no no no," she gasped. This was it. "No no no Julian no Jules, please...puh..." She cried out, coming hard, her overworked clit still induring his abuse and she thrashed, trying to push him off, trying to separate his hand from her body, anything for relief.

  And as her pussy began to spasm Julian came too, pumping throughout, still focused on her clit, his unwanted attention causing her insides to clench around him at will.

  Finally, exhausted, he collapsed beside her.

  After a few moments of silence he asked, "you still want me to sleep in here?"

  She nodded. Her face was still wet from her tears. He dried them gently with the bedsheet.

  "Okay, he said, then smiled. "But we're not done." He got to his feet.

  "What?" Her voice caught in her throat. "Julian, what?"

  He was digging through one of his drawers now, looking for something in particular. She couldn't see in the dark.

  "What is it? Please, what is it?"

  He came back to the bed, holding something in his hand. "Close your eyes."

  "No."

  He shot her a warning look. "Come on, Katie, don't be stupid."

  "Please no more."

  "Close your eyes. I won't say it again."

  She obeyed. When she felt a hand on her thigh she instinctively pressed her legs shut, protecting her sex. He spread them easily.

  "What is it, please, please...oh!"

  His fingers were fondling her clit, just a mere touch was torture.

  "Stop, please!"

  "I'm almost done."

  "Please no, please no."

  And then something snapped shut right on her clit and she shrieked, her whole body jerking. She reached between her legs but he grabbed her wrists and held them tight.

  "You can open your eyes now."

  She did. "No, please," she whined when she saw the clothespin between her legs.

  "Yeah," he said matter of factly.

  "When, for how long?"

  "You're gonna sleep like that."

  She could hardly form words. Even the slightest shift in position sent pain through her clit. "I can't...I'll never be able to fall asleep like this."

  He tossed the bottle of pills onto the bed beside her. "Sure you will."

  The End.

  A Casual Encounter

  A subtle breeze cuts through the heat of late spring, making for as pleasant a day as Paul could have hoped for. He saunters down the familiar park path that winds its way down the hill and hugs the curve of the pond, shielding his eyes from the midmorning sun as he seeks out his regular bench. Nestled in a cove of pine trees with a great view of the duck-dotted pond, it's the perfect location for him, a spot that he seeks out week after week on lazy weekend mornings.

  Paul settles himself onto the slick, well-worn wood seat and goes about arranging himself appropriately. The newspaper is plunked down next to him, the business section isolated and brought to the top. He retrieves his newsboy cap from his back pocket, unfolds it and slips it into place on his head. His ex-wife had always hated this hat, telling him often and emphatically that it made him appear older than his years, but he insisted that it gives his conventional look a rakish touch.

  Absently he unfolds the paper while looking out over the rest of the park, taking in the frisbee-chasing dog and his owner across the pond, the pair of joggers struggling up the hill, the men, like him but older, taking up space on the benches in the distance. A quiet day overall, the kind he prefers.

  He snaps the paper into position and sets to leisurely perusing the dry text, though he can't help the way his gaze wanders up to note the passersby on the path in front of him, especially when those passersby happen to be of the female persuasion. He may be in his 40s, but that doesn't mean he can't still look and maybe even hope. He tries not to hope too much, though, and always returns to reading about the strength of the dollar.

  Maybe he could have stood to read a little less and hope a little more, though, because he doesn't even see her walk up. She's peeling back the top corner of his newspaper before he even notices her, despite her striking appearance, with that unnaturally red pixie cut and the multiple little hoops lining the edge of her ears. She's young, college-aged at least but baby-faced in a way that makes her seem innocent despite clear attempts to try and roughen her exterior. She stands there smiling, a cryptic little thing, while she sizes him up, her blue eyes taking in his square jaw and distinguished nose, but also his wrinkles and rather thin mouth. Self-consciously, he clears his throat. How utterly boring he must seem to her.

  After another second, he puts on his best debonaire tone to say, "Hello there."

  She doesn't answer. Of course, she doesn't answer, that's how these things go. He knows enough to expect that but he's still thrown off a bit by it, unsure of how to proceed. She helps him out at least, taking the paper from his hands altogether and letting it fall haphazardly to the side. With a single finger, she tweaks the bill of his cap and then brazenly climbs into his lap, her summer skirt spreading over his legs as she straddles him.

  It worked. He can't exactly believe it even now, but it worked. Ever since his divorce was finalized, he had been putting up these Craigslist ads and sitting here on this very bench in this very same situation every Saturday, waiting for some woman, any woman, to take him up on his offer. A nice fast fuck right out in the open. He's always had a bit of an exhibitionist fetish, but with his rigidly modest wife, there was never much of a chance to indulge it. It was part of the reason she left him, actually. Of course, he never anticipated that his little ad would work, not really. What chance did his rather gentlemanly request for a fun public fuck have in with all the many lewd dick shots and poorly worded solicitations from 20-something "studs?" But he figured why not try all the same, and live out at least a fraction of a fantasy in the process. So each week he would post that he would be waiting on this bench, at this time, holding a newspaper and wearing his brown houndstooth cap, for anyone looking for a quick public tryst.

  And now the tryst is right here, sitting in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning her round face, smooth and pale, against his. She seemed almost waifish standing there in front of him, but her petite frame is pleasantly solid under his wandering hands, with some delicious substance to her hips, her ass. Her plump lips teasingly engage his as he gropes southwards and he anxiously returns her kiss. He lets her be the first to offer tongue, but meets it hungrily when she does, daring to press his cock against her with a rock of his hips. When there's no rebuke from her, his hands venture further and fumble under her skirt, where he finds, thank all that is holy, she's not wearing any underwear.

  He lets his fin
gers work the magic he learned during his 20 years of marriage and casts a glance over the woman's shoulder at the park at large. Everyone in sight is ignoring them so far. They're just a couple making out on a park bench, after all. The cops usually don't get called until things have progressed much further.

  She grinds against him, in time with his persistent stroking, the moan in his ear pulling his attention fully back to her. He drops his mouth to her neck, nibbling gently at the point where her neck meets her shoulder. And then again not so gently, when he feels her shivering, rocking reaction. He gets his reward in the form of her reaching down, steadily unbuckling his belt and yanking open the fly of his pants.

  He's already hard when she pulls his cock out but her small hands expertly running the length of it bring him close to bursting. He wraps his hands gently over her upper arms, stalling her for the quick second it takes for him to scope out the area once again. No one near enough, those in sight occupied with their own lives. It's now or never.

  Paul fishes a condom from his pocket and tears it open with his teeth, still too pragmatic to risk a random bareback encounter. He takes control of his cock again and slides the thing on before grabbing a handful of ass on either side and sliding her forward. She seems to expect nothing less from him and wriggles eagerly into place when he pulls, lightly biting her lip in anticipation. She seems to enjoy the anticipation a little too much, though, because she pauses there, pussy poised teasingly on the tip of his rubbered cock.

  "Now," he rumbles, fingers digging in at her hips and urging her downward.

  She just grins right back, seeming to thoroughly enjoy the rise she's getting out of him. With slow, devastatingly slow purpose she lowers herself onto him, resisting every one of his restrained attempts to thrust himself deeper. He lets out a heavy, inadvertently held breath when she's finally eased all the way down, when his cock is buried in the tight warmth of her pussy. With practiced ease, she begins to move her hips in small, deliberate circles, just slow enough to keep strangers' eyes from figuring them out too quickly.