by Emmie Combs
Forced Erotica - Forbidden Extremely Taboo Dirty Collection Stories
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Edited by Emmie Combs
Stories 1-150
The Long Weekend
The weekend was intended as a surprise with a difference! He drove them down to Devon early one Saturday morning. The autumn colours were magnificent en route, as he deliberately skirted the main motorway. She was gagged, and sat respectfully alongside him as he drove slowly along the Exmoor road, through timeless villages with their charming pubs. She had dressed as instructed. Simple white blouse, dark skirt, stockings and black patent boots, with modest heels. He had kissed her as she joined him in the car, an intake of breath revealing her delicate perfume, so fitting for her. She was naked beneath these outer garments, and she blushed with shame, as he reached around her to lift up her skirt to reveal her nakedness, and left it so for the journey. She had several hours to endure, the wondering if lorry drivers or bus drivers would glance down and see her in the passenger seat, helplessly exposed.
At last they seemed to have reached their destination, a castellated manor house, with a long gravel drive approach. He stopped, and sense returning, bade her rearrange herself to make herself presentable at the manor. He opened the door for her and offered his hand, slightly caressing a breast as he helped her out of the car.
The entrance hall was grand and impressive all wood panelling and oil portraits. They were greeted somewhat formally by a stern looking receptionist, and she accompanied them to their room on the first floor. He bade her sit down on the bed whilst he unpacked. His opened suitcase revealed a startling (to her eyes) collection of paddles, switches, rope, lengths of chain, and various butt plugs of extraordinary sizes and dildos equally endowed, in addition to what seemed to be medical implements and tubing, that must certainly have been for administering an enema. There were also garments in a range of materials, from latex to leather, for him and for her. He made sure she saw everything as he unpacked, and lay items alongside her on the bed. She experienced a panoply of emotions: excitement, anxiety, and the anticipation of humiliation and shame. Next, he opened the champagne from the ice bucket, and offered her a glass, toasting them both and their lust for life.
The phone rang. There was a brief conversation, during which he simply accepted what was said with a yes, and mmm, OK, and then he asked her to disrobe. She did so slowly, knowing this was expected. And as her body was revealed, he asked her to masturbate in front of him. He then bade her dress in a special set of garments, her slave costume for the weekend. These were of leather, body hugging, but with holes cut in places leaving her exposed where she least wanted to be. He put on a black boiler suit and then to her shame, led her out of the privacy of their room, down the corridor, down the main elaborate staircase, and down, down into the basement. They were greeted at the foot of the stairs by the same receptionist, who looked at her with approval, and a hint of lust. He saw this, and frowned in possessiveness: it was clear what this signal meant.
They entered a dimly lit room, where she was vaguely aware of other figures. There were benches upholstered in a sort of doctor's surgery style, and on these sat a collection of other slaves, some male, some female. They were dressed in similar style to her, and she puzzled at this, immediately unsettled. She was excited now, at this intensity, this focus. She knew he had promised a surprise, but this quite took her breath away as she realised his intent. She would be punished in front of others like her, and they would also be punished in front of their masters and mistresses in turn.
He led her to a bench, where a strange machine was positioned at one end. It was all metal wheels, and cogs, and drive belts. He instructed her not to let him down, and to obey him in all that followed. She had the safe word, but he knew she would not need it. He strapped her on the bench, with her legs wide apart and fixed into strirrups. She was gaping wide, and totally exposed now, her puffed lips red and glistening wet in the half light. He moved over to the control console and made some adjustments, then positioned the machine close to her. He attached a large dildo to the rod at the end of the machine, and with some levers arranged it at the tips of her pussy. Then he waited. Others were doing likewise, and on a signal, the machines were switched on simultaneously. The male slaves were on their knees, and they were entered from behind in a first slow thrust. The female slaves were in her position, but arranged so they could all see each other. They all received the first thrust together. The dominant figures in their amorphous black uniforms raised the tempo, and soon there was a mixture of sobbing and groaning. One poor boyish young slave was pitiful in his pleading, and was later to be beaten soundly for the feebleness he displayed.
She took the pummelling with the black monster phallus with a resigned contentment. She had overcome the shock of her position, and now she lay there, a showcase of submissiveness, her soul bared and raw. She knew not how long this lasted, but she came and came, as the machine tempo waxed and waned, and his probing fingers added torments and teasing to the menu of this sexual feast. She loved this, the forbidden nature of it all, the outrageousness of the organisation involved, and the long build up including the journey. It all came to pass, and when she felt a second phallus enter her other hole she sighed and greeted it with inner delight. He stroked his slave, he was proud. She was taken from this room of mechanical torment, to their room, and she was feasted with his tongue and cock, until exhaustion overcame them both. Sweat smooth bodies lay side by side....a truce until the morning would once again lead to fresh assaults on her aching body, and no doubt she would feel the taste of the paddle or cane until she cried in his arms to stop.
The following day began conventionally enough, with a delicious breakfast in bed, followed by a lengthy session of oral delights. He used his tongue to cover her all over, and then made a special feast of her upper thighs, backs of knees, and behind the ears, before dwelling with intent on her clit. He took her to the edge of orgasm several times, and she thrashed about on the bed, before he denied her thrice.
They bathed, in fine smelling waters, and emerged refreshed. The phone rang, and he answered it, listened intently for an age and then simply replied saying we will be ready in 15 minutes. He used this time to stroke her and hug her, and to make her feel secure. After a while, he gagged her, then blindfolded her by placing her in a mask. She was now naked and vulnerable. Like this he led her down the hall, and once again to the basement. Here she was covered in massage oils by what seemed like many hands. She was then attached to a maltese cross, her hands and feet bound tight by what seemed to her like rough hemp. The shock came as the whip landed right on her cleft. She was not anticipating the whip, yes, the crop perhaps, but after so much tenderness from him, the whip, no! And then he was with her, stretching her pussy with his fingers, reassuring her that this would be over soon, and she realised he was not the one beating her. She cried, but could not give in and request that it be over. The pain turned to warmth, the flood of preorgasmic waves washed her, and took her through this ordeal. But it was not over.
She was led into another room, and hands were all over her. Many hands, and cocks too, and also hard phalluses, probing, glancing across her tits and arse. She was penetrated by a hot throbbing cock in the mouth, and one in her anus, and there was another thing entering her pussy, huge and inanimate. All the time he whispered in her ear, that it was his turn next, and they were under stronger powers. Then something was strapped on her and it hung between her legs, weighing downwards. She was led to a body, a slim boyish form. The mask was removed, and another slave, a male, was strapped and bent over a bench, with his legs apart.
Somehow, she knew what she must do, and she entered him in one thrust, and all around there as a murmur of approval from the assembled Masters and Mistresses. As she entered the young lad, a Mistress took her from behind with a huge dildo and they moved in unison, and she could not stop herself from coming, a car crash of an orgasm that held all the frustration of the morning. She looked across, and could see her Master being beaten by another man, and her Master had his mouth filled with a large black phallus strapped on a Mistress.
They were taken away afterwards, and returned to their room. Was it real? Was it true, She could feel the afterglow of all the penetration and the beating, and he held her, and it was good. Could they both have grown from this, to both feel the pain and the humiliation together, under forces beyond their control, with her Master as vulnerable as she. He told her that it was a test for them both, and they had passed. Now they would be allowed into the Castle, but that part of their journey lay ahead, and she must wait and pass more of his tests before then.
The End.
Storm Watch
Rielle watched the radar all afternoon as the bonfire approached. The chance of severe storms they were forecasting stuck in her mind as she prepared for her guests. About an hour before everyone was supposed to arrive, the sky darkened, winds picked up, temperature dropped and the rain started. Her phone blew up with texts and calls from friends saying they weren't coming because of the weather. Almost everyone cancelled.
Rielle ran outside and brought everything into the house as quickly as possible as the warning sounded on the kitchen television. The radar flashed up onto the screen as she watched a long line of red and yellow storm cells heading straight for her. She began putting food away into storage containers and filling up her fridge. She turned the volume up so that she could keep track of the timing of the storm. They were calling for strong winds and nickel size hail.
As she was throwing the last of the serving spoons into the sink and starting the dishwater, she heard a knock on the door. She walked to the porch to see Logan standing outside, getting totally soaked in the downpour. She let him in and couldn't help but giggle. She had him stand in the entryway for a moment and grabbed a towel from the laundry room. As she tossed it in his direction, she laughed again.
"You can toss your shirt and stuff in the dryer if you want." She started. "I'm not going to leave you standing around in wet clothes."
As she was finishing the dishes, Logan came up behind her and playfully tugged on her ponytail. She turned around to find him bare-chested, in just his shorts, which were still slightly wet from the rain. Instinctively, she reached out and poked him in the side. "Hey now," Logan responded. "Don't start something you can't finish!"
"Behave yourself" she giggled.
Just then, the television interrupted again with another warning. This time the meteorologist stated that there was a possible tornado forming near the next town to the Northeast. She looked out of the dining room windows and could see the dark clouds.
"Feel like going to watch?" Rielle asked Logan. "We can stand on the porch, shouldn't get totally drenched."
"Sounds like a plan to me."
They headed out onto the porch and watched the clouds as the storm drew closer. The thunder at times was deafening and the lightning flashing out across the fields was intense. As the wind picked up, Rielle stepped closer to Logan. The temperature was dropping, and she chilled. She wasn't sure if it was from fear, excitement, or both.
As she stood closer to him, Logan could smell Rielle's perfume on the wind. The scent stirred thoughts in his mind, but wasn't sure if it was a good time to act on those thoughts. He could feel himself getting aroused as she stood next to him. She looked great, wearing a short halter dress and flip flops. His mind began to wander, until a loud crack of lightning not far from the house accompanied by a heavy gust of wind caused Rielle to jump. Logan laughed.
"I meant to do that, you know." Rielle countered.
"Uh huh, sure you did, Miss Thunderstorm fanatic."
"Okay, so I'm not a huge fan of really, really severe stuff. Especially not this close to nightfall."
"Why's that? Big old farmhouse gets scary for you at night?"
"Possibly. You have one tornado come through your front yard when you're sleeping, you don't forget it." Rielle gestured to the tree stump across the driveway. It was all that remained of a giant oak tree that had been in the yard for years. It had been brought down by a tornado as it touched down, snapping and twisting the tree, dropping it just yards from the house.
And there was Logan's chance. The television in the living room sounded the warning tone again, and they both stepped over to the door so that they could hear the latest. "A Tornado Warning has been issued for the area" the meteorologist said. As they looked north toward town, they could see the funnel off in the distance. They watched as it touched down far away, and Rielle was reaching for her phone camera to take a picture when the power died.
"Logan," Rielle started. "I think it might be a good idea to head for the basement."
"Let's go" Logan replied. "I'll follow you."
"The stairs suck, just to warn you" Rielle said as she grabbed the flashlight at the basement door. She clicked it on and led the way down to a small room under the center of the house. It had a ledge with storage boxes piled high. Rielle opened a bag and pulled out an old faded quilt and a couple pillows.
"The floor down here isn't the most comfortable, these should help." She fumbled in the dim light for the weather radio, and through the static picked up the information on the warning. She could hear the winds dying down outside. She walked across the basement and peered out of the external door. "The sky is a lovely shade of pea soup green, just in case you're wondering."
"Sounds wonderful" Logan replied.
Just then, the hail started. Rielle sat down next to Logan, and as the hail and winds picked up and intensified, she scooted closer to him. The wind seemed to roar outside, and she practically jumped onto his lap.
That was it. He couldn't take any more. He wanted her. He needed her.
Logan reached out and kissed Rielle slowly. Her body tensed and then relaxed as his kiss took over her. She began to kiss him back, and he could feel her gently shaking.
He laid her down on the quilt, her head resting on the pillow and hovered over her. He kissed down her neck, over her shoulder, across her collarbone and back to the other side of her neck. He ran his hands over her breasts and down her legs. She shivered at his touch as he ran his hands down her side. As he positioned himself on top of her, he kissed her again. She could feel his hardness pressing against her. He could feel the heat coming from between her legs as she moved her hips beneath him. He ran his hands under her skirt, feeling her smooth skin and the soft fabric of her panties.
Just then, the weather radio crackled the all clear. "I really hate to stop this now" Rielle started. "But this basement creeps me out. Let's go back upstairs and see what's going on outside."
As they stood up and Rielle clicked the flashlight on to lead them up the stairs, her hand brushed the front of his shorts, teasing the length of his member which was still hard. He grabbed her hips and her ass as she walked up the stairs in front of him.
As they walked through the living room, Rielle grabbed a throw blanket off of the couch before heading outside. The storm had weakened to just a thunderstorm. The chairs had been blown to the other end of the porch. "We can just sit on the floor, I guess" Rielle said as she sat down, wrapping the blanket around her.
"What's this? You don't share?" Logan asked jokingly as he sat next to her.
Rielle giggled. "Just have to ask." She replied, opening the blanket to him.
Within moments, his hands had picked up where they left off. The cool night air was blowing against them, the sound of the storm and the smell of the rain was all around them.
Soon, Logan gently pulled Rielle onto his lap, kissing her as she straddled him. He reached behind her, untying the str
aps of her halter dress, letting the top fall and exposing her breasts to him. He moved downward with his kisses, gently taking each nipple into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue. She moaned quietly in pleasure and rocked her hips back and forth over his once again hard cock. His left hand moved down, under her skirt, searching for the soft fabric of her panties again. As he found it, he slid it aside and moaned as his fingers touched soft, shaven skin close to her slit. He slid a finger farther, touching her clit. She was already wet. His cock felt as if it were going to rip out of his pants at any moment.
Rielle reached down, tugging at the waistband of his shorts and pulled his cock free. She gasped as it sprung to attention. It was the largest she'd seen in real life. She stroked it gently, teasing the head with her fingers before gripping the shaft and working her hands up and down slowly. She could feel the precum on the head and moaned.
"Do you want it in you, baby?" Logan asked.
"Yes" Rielle whispered. "So bad."
He lifted her hips above him, and with one hand pulled the fabric aside. His head pushed gently at the wet opening to her pussy. She moaned and wriggled her hips back and forth as he rubbed it up and down her opening. As he started to push it into her slowly, she grabbed his shoulders. Her nails scratched gently as he eased himself in. She was so tight. She felt amazing. She lowered herself down over him the rest of the way and started to grind against him.
He moaned as he felt her shaking and pulsing around him. He kissed her hard and grabbed her hips as he worked her pussy over him. He wanted to take her so hard, so fast. The slow intensity she was building was driving him insane. He could feel her clit getting harder as it rubbed against him. She moaned and he could feel her hips jerking against his grip as she neared climax.
"That's it baby, cum for me." Logan growled in her ear as she neared the edge. With one last jerk, her orgasm flooded over her. She cried out as she lost control, spasming around his hard cock. She wrapped her legs around him as he pushed himself deeper inside of her. He held her as she came down, laying her head on his shoulder, panting.