“Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin. “I’d have hoped you’d learn a little better form by now.”
This was...this was infuriating! There was no pleasing him! My perfect face, aghast, must have transmitted my rage, but he didn't seem to care.
“I want you to apologize.”
“W-what?”
“Apologize. For not being better at what you’re supposed to do.”
“I-I-I...”
“Or, if you’d prefer, I can call in the police officers waiting outside.” He pulled out the phone from his jacket. “Would you like that, niece?”
I looked down, not meeting his gaze. “No.”
“Well then,” his voice was almost gleeful now. “I’m waiting.”
“I’m sorry.” I said it briefly, almost under my breath.
“What was that? Speak up.”
I held in a roar, wanting to tell him where to stick his apology.
“I’m sorry,” I said loudly.
“For what? I’m not sure I believe you. You'll have to be specific, little girl.”
Taking in a deep breath, I tried to keep my delicate composure. My tits, so big and round, seemed as though they might pop out of my tiny dress.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t better at doing...what I was supposed to do. I’m sorry I didn’t have a better walk.” I tossed back my hair, forcing a smile. “I’ll practice it, just for you.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding sagely. “You definitely will. I’ll make sure of that. In some higher heels, too. A slut like you belongs in some actual heels, not those little things.”
Gritting my teeth, I managed somehow to not yell at him and insist that my heels were completely tall and totally showed off my legs and ass perfectly.
“Now,” he leaned back and crossed his hands behind his head. “Serve me dinner.”
“What?”
“Go on. You’re lucky I didn’t make you make it.” He laughed for a moment. “Or perhaps I’m lucky. I don’t think you know how to even open a bottle of water by yourself, much less cook a meal. But from now on, you’ll learn. For right now, however, you need only serve it. It’s in the kitchen.”
Obediently, if begrudgingly, I walked into the kitchen.
Our cook, Maria, looked at me with a bright smile on her face. Clearly, she knew what was going on, and did not seem to have any problem with my Uncle corralling me for his personal sex fantasy. I noticed for the first time—and who knew if it had been there before or not—the studded collar around her neck. She was a tiny, busty woman with short red hair. Her apron did little to hide the expansive lines of her impressive tits. Her platform heels were taller than my own—much taller.
I didn’t know it at the time, but Uncle Michael had been fucking and dominating Maria regularly. She was a sub he had found on the internet and then ordered her to learn how to cook. She agreed happily, and he paid her way from then on. Someday, maybe even someday soon, he'll get tired of her and drop her—and she'll just thank him for the pleasure of his cock while he gave it to her. She's that kind of woman.
“You look so pretty for the Sir,” she cooed. “You will do as he says like a good niece, yes?”
“I suppose I'll have to.”
“Oh dear,” she tsked. “It's so much more fun when you want to, though!”
She picked up the silver tray of food—a plate with a steak, salad, and a delicious-smelling vegetable soup—and handed it to me. I struggled to hold on to it, my heels so precarious.
Somehow, I made it back into the room with Uncle Michael without spilling anything. I laid out the tray in front of him, smiling prettily.
“Here you are, Sir,” I cooed.
“Good,” he said, looking over the meal. “Good girl.”
He slapped my ass then, hard. And then his hand slid up inside of my dress, gripping my ass cheek hard.
“Un-Uncle Michael!” I cried out.
“What?”
He acted like nothing at all was peculiar in what he was doing.
“I...I-um...”
“Do you not like this? Being treated like the whore you are? Do you not like that I know what a slut my niece is?”
“I...I...I like it very much,” I said, struggling.
Oh god, his fingers dug into my tight, eighteen year-old flesh so firmly. He was owning my ass, just like I could tell that he wanted to own all of me.
“Good girl. Good little niece.” Mercifully, he loosened his grip—but not before leaving little bruises where his grip had dug in. “Now, get on your knees.”
My mouth hung open. “Get on my what?”
“Your knees. Those sexy little things joining your sweet thighs and your boot-clad calves, there. Get on them.”
“Why?”
“Because I say so, you little brat.”
He grabbed my glove-clad wrist, pulling my gorgeous face down to his. Before I could say or do anything, he had pulled me in for a rough, hard kiss, practically bruising my lips with his. His tongue thrust inside of my mouth, violating me, his niece!
When finally he let me pull away, his teeth dragged against my tongue, my lips. I was left breathless. Breathing hard, he pushed his face up the sexy line of my chin, dragging his teeth as he went until he had put his mouth against my ear.
His hand moved off my gloved hand and up to the collar of my expensive fur...and then around my throat. He gripped me there, hard. My knees buckled in terror and—surprisingly—arousal. It was like I already knew that a cunt's place, even a niece cunt's, was on her knees in front of a strong man.
“Now listen, whore. I’ve had just about enough of your backtalk. If you question me, or disobey me, or do anything close to those things again, I will throw you to the police. You’ll be theirs. And I assure you, dressed how you are, they may just forget their manners for a while before charging you with grand larceny.”
That thought filled my mind for a minute. All those policemen, using me like their cumrag. Their personal fucktoy, before tossing me into prison where I’d get used by whatever foul elements filled those places.
I couldn't stand such a thought. I only wanted one man to have me. A romantic notion, I know...but true for me. I supposed, at the time, that I could just pretend that one man I wanted was Uncle Michael, at least.
“Okay,” I said. “I mean, yes, Sir. I’ll do like you say.”
And so I dropped to my knees, looking at him with open, willing eyes. Broken. Tamed.
“You’ll obey,” he said.
I nodded. “I’ll obey, Sir.”
“Get down between my knees.”
Shuffling over, I placed my gloved hands on his knees. The fur of my coat pressed against his thighs. I already sensed what was coming—or I thought I did. But he had so much more in store for me than I thought.
I was completely underneath the table now.
“Take it out.”
Shuddering and taking a deep breath, I pulled his zipper down. I had to gasp at the monster he kept behind it.
“What do you think?”
His cock was enormous. Hard, already. It was, despite all my seductions around town, the very first cock I had ever seen up this close.
“It’s very...big. So big.”
That seemed to please him. The big meaty head pulsed forward, pushing against my cheek. I could hear him moving his fork and knife around, digging into the meal he had in front of him.
“Have a taste. Lick it.”
Holding the massive shaft with one hand, I slid my tongue over the head. It was...salty. Hardening, still, but so hard already.
“Suck it now.”
Tentatively, I pursed my lips and began to push them over the head of my Uncle's cock. More and more and more of it went down my throat. I made sure to use my lips, crafting a perfect “O” with them. My tongue slid up and down the shaft. I had to do it right, I had to make sure he enjoyed it, or else who knew what awful things he would do to me?
“That's good,” he moaned, obviously with food in his m
outh. “Good girl. Good niece. What a good slut you'll make for me.”
I heard the silverware clatter, and one of his hands drifted underneath the table with me. Forcefully, he put his hand on top of my head, shoving my young mouth against his throbbing meat. Harder and harder, he pushed me out and shoved me back down. Using me. Abusing me.
“I’m gonna shoot my load,” he breathed loudly. “Right down your pretty little niece throat.”
I moaned in response. I think he liked that, because his thrusts increased. Harder and harder. In response, I just moaned more and more. He was using me like I was some common whore. I had thought I was a queen, a goddess, but when it came to my Uncle Michael, I was just a toy. Just a hole to be filled.
And just like that, he came down my throat, holding my head against his cock so I couldn’t pull away. I think it turned him on that I was fighting—so just to spite him, I did my best to enjoy it. My pussy was hot and wet, juices running down my legs.
He pushed me off his cock—and I thought that was it—but he sprayed one more long load into my face, covering me with his white, hot jizz. Coughing, I wiped it off—and swallowed much of it voluntarily. I figured I had already taken quite a lot of it in me already. Still, long strands could be seen drying on my expensive coat and gloves.
“Come on out from there,” he ordered me.
“Yes, Sir.”
I climbed out from underneath the table, still kneeling.
“Stand up,” he said, holding me by the chin.
He wiped off some of the cum still on my face and pushed it down my throat. Obediently, I swallowed. I didn’t really have a choice anymore. We both knew that.
Wiping his own face with a napkin, clearing some of the juices from the steak, he stood up.
“Turn around,” he ordered me.
I did as he commanded, facing away from him. Almost instantly, I felt his fingers sliding between my legs, pushing into the hot folds of my pussy. My dress was nowhere near long enough to stand in his way.
“Wet already, I see.” I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was smiling. “A whore after all, eh?”
“Yes, Uncle Michael.”
I didn’t agree with that—I didn’t!—but what choice did I have but to agree at that point?
“Bend over.”
Shuddering with burgeoning lust as he continued to finger my pussy, I craned my neck around to see his monster cock fully erect.
“Are you...are you hard again already?”
His cock stood at full attention behind me. I could hardly believe it. I didn't know that much about sex, but I knew that older guys like him couldn't get it up so quickly! Except...except he had.
“I am. You’ll get used to that, my dear. When it comes to your sweet little ass, I’ve got a lot of staying power. Now, bend over like a good little slut.”
I must not have complied as immediately as he would have liked, so he pushed my face down onto the table, banging my forehead slightly.
“A good niece obeys her Uncle right away,” he growled fiercely.
“Yes, Uncle Michael!”
Now doing as he commanded, whether I liked it or not, I was bent over at the waist, my palms down on the table.
But he was having none of that. He gripped one gloved wrist, and then the other. He brought them up behind my back, twisting both my arms until he clamped down on both wrists with one hand.
I was totally in his control.
Without any further ceremony, he entered me. His enormous, fat, veiny cock pushed inside of my hot young teen twat, filling me up like nothing I had ever felt before.
“Virgin, huh?”
“Yes, Uncle Michael!”
“So you’re my whore, then.”
That much was true. I couldn’t deny it. I’d do whatever he told me so long as I got to keep my station with him—which included a lot of easy cash.
“Yes, Uncle Michael,” I said, trying to add a sultry tone to my voice. “I’m your whore. Your whore niece.”
That made him fuck me the harder.
“You fucking slut. You love being my slut, don’t you?”
“I’m your slut,” I moaned. “I'm your niece slut!”
He spanked my ass hard. My big tits bounced up and down on the table beneath me.
“Say it! Say you love being my good little slut!”
“I’m your good little slut!”
My dress had slipped down at this point, barely covering my body at all. He picked my arms up higher, twisting them further, and pain shot through my body even as the pleasure of his fucking rocked inside of me.
“You’ll obey me!”
“I’ll obey you, Uncle Michael!”
Oh god, anything he said! His big meat filled me so well! I didn't know anything could fill me like that, ever. He continued to spank me with his free hand as he plowed into my hot teen cunt.
“You’ll do as I say!”
“I’ll do whatever you say, Uncle Michael!”
Yes, yes! Fuck yes! I loved his cock inside of me, pumping so fucking hard. His breaths became harder, faster, as he pumped into my cunt more and more.
“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned.
Doubt and fear rushed through me. I wasn't on birth control! He had to cum on me, not in me.
“Pull out!” I cried. “Oh my god, please! I'm not on the pill!”
“No,” he growled in my ear. “I’m not going to pull out. Not anymore. Not for you. I own you, and your cunt.”
Fear, total and encapsulating, filled my heart. He was going to cum in my belly! No! No way! Please no!
But he did.
And immediately, it felt so, soooo good. His hot, gooey white warm seed filling up inside of me. The second that the warmth entered my body, I knew that this is what I was for. I knew that taking my Uncle’s seed was the right thing for me to do.
Surprising him, and surprising even myself, I shuddered with orgasm, mewling out how sounds of thanks.
“Thank you,” I cried, biting one thick, perfect lower lip as the bliss rushed through my body. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Uncle Michael.”
Finally he had let go of my hands. I almost wished he wouldn't have—that he would leave me bound and under his firm grip forever.
He smiled and stroked my hair. “You’re welcome, good girl.”
I came to him just a teenage babe, a girl with big thoughts about herself. But he turned me into a real woman.
* * * * *
Now, I’m six months pregnant. Uncle Michael was so right to fill me up the way he did.
He takes care of me now, and I do right by him, like a good girl should. I’m his special personal whore. He’s fucked me so many times now, I think his big Uncle cock has ruined me for anyone else.
He’s calling me now. I’ve got this big baby bump, and it’s so hard to get around with it. He gave me twins, his fucking cum is so potent and hot. Still though, I try to wear sexy dresses and high heels, showing off my hot, womanly figure. Whenever he lets me out around town to be his trophy, I make sure to laugh in the face of any guy that thinks to ask me out or talk to me.
So I'm a hot bitch still, sure, but I'm his hot bitch. I've learned my lesson.
# # #
Taken by Teachers
I sat in my chair in history class at the beginning of the school day, idly daydreaming about the town stud, Joey Rogers. He was such a hunk.
He had asked me out tons of times already. Each time, though, I said no. I wanted to drive his desire up and up and up. Most girls, they wouldn’t dream of telling someone like Joey “no” at all—but as the prettiest eighteen year-old at Bluebonnet High School, I knew I could do whatever I wanted.
I say that unequivocally, with no hesitation at all, by the way. About being the prettiest girl in school. I absolutely am. There are lots of pretty girls here, sure. There are lots of beautiful girls. There are lots of hot girls, and cute girls, and all the rest.
But there’s only one queen—and that’s me. And they all kn
ow it. All the girls...mmm. And all the boys, too.
They just can’t compete with me. My tits are too big and round and perfect—gorgeous 36DD boobies that make men drool with every little bounce. I have the type of tits that women buy push-up bras to get: buoyant, perky, firm, and always perfectly displayed in whatever tiny little tops I decide to wear.
My legs are too long for me to have competition. In my sexy, blue pleated skirt hat I wore that day for instance, the edge of the fabric came down only to the middle of my delectably toned thighs. Every time I adjusted myself in my seat, I ran the gambit of flashing anyone who happened to be looking below my desk. It wasn’t that big of a gamble, to be honest—most of the time, everyone gets so caught-up in looking at my face and my tits that they forget all about how perfectly sexy my legs are.
My waist is too narrow for me to have competition. It’s supermodel-thin, even though the rest of me is delightfully voluptuous. It’s super fun to be able to wear whatever clothes I want and look spectacular in them.
My hips are too wide for me to have competition. Hips are everything, especially on a hot young body like mine. Hips are what make men want to watch you as you walk—and they all watch me. My hips sway from side to side, showing off easily, though of course the high heels I wear help.
My body is too trim and toned and perfect from years of cheerleading and dieting right for me to have competition. It’s just in perfect balance thanks to winning a genetic jackpot and me having lots of dedication to my strict dieting regime.
No, I can’t have any competition; my hair is too long and blonde—golden, really. Men want lots of things, but if you put a drop-dead gorgeous brunette in front of them and have her compete with a drop-dead gorgeous blonde, the blonde will win every time. That’s just a fact. It’s science, and I’m the experiment that proves it.
And on top of ALL that (which I am, by the way, or haven’t you been able to tell?), my face is just too gorgeous for me to have any real competition. Pouty, perfectly full lips. Bright blue eyes. Sexy angled cheekbones, and a perfectly regal chin.
I’m the best, that’s all. Get used to it. Everyone else has.
The Knocked Up Lust Bundle Page 8