by Tommy Twist
Rough BDSM Erotica
Dalia Daudelin
I had always done my best to avoid conversations with Satanists, Pagans, and Atheists. My mother taught me to walk with Jesus, and her homeschooling me was a wonderful blessing. I will never forget all the things she taught me, about being a Proverbs 31 woman, about submitting to my husband and being a homemaker.
So yes. I did my best to shelter myself and my family (though I do not yet have children) from what is worldly or satanic.
In the end, it didn't do me much good.
It was a normal Monday for me, which means I was up by 6 AM, showered and pretty, with a hot breakfast on the table being devoured by my husband before he heads of to work. I would, of course, be left to household duties, such as shopping, cleaning, and reading the Bible. By 10 AM, I found myself bored to tears with the house unusually clean.
I slipped into the bathroom and, for a moment, checked my reflection. My long, natural blonde hair was waving slightly down my back. My pale blue eyes sparkled just a bit with my youth. I was indeed, a very beautiful wife, something Jack, my husband, told me very often. He and I met while helping out in Haiti 4 years ago, when I was only 17.
We were married on the day of my 18th birthday, with the happy blessings from both of our families. My daddy made sure that Jack would protect me, while Jack's mom made sure I would raise up our children as Evangelical Christians. Which, I mean, duh!
I turned on the faucet in order to wash my hands, which were a bit dirty with makeup. However, no water came out! For a moment, I was too confused to do anything at all. And then, I sighed and picked up the phone, ready to let Jack know I'll have to call a plumber, again! For the second time this month!
“Hello?” His voice was stern, and I supposed I caught him when he was busy.
“Hi, honey. I'm sorry if this was a bad time!” I prayed in the back of my head that Jack would forgive me. There was a small chuckle on the other end.
“You're fine, Becca. What's wrong?”
“Well, the sink isn't working again, so I'm going to call a plumber. Do you want me to see if they can come after you get out of work or-”
“No, that won't do,” he cut me off. “I have to work late tonight. I'm sure you can handle it.”
“Alright, dear. See you tonight!”
Setting down the phone, I allow myself a small pout. I've never been good at handling handymen, and much preferred having Jack here. Maybe they'd send a female plumber.
I pick the phone back up. Taking it with me to find the phone book, I rifle through the pages looking for the number of a plumber. I find one that sounds like it may have been the same one we used last time and dial its number. I only have to wait 2 rings before the phone is picked up.
“Plumbers, how can I help you today?” The voice definitely belongs to a woman, which brings me great relief.
“My sink has stopped working. This is the second time this happened.”
“Alright, ma'am,” the voice says, apathy dripping from the words. “It's a slow day, so I can have someone out within an hour. Can I have your address?”
“Oh, yes.” I stumble through telling her where I live, and we hang up. I stare at the phone for a moment, and then start pacing, anxiety controlling my body completely. “I have to do something to keep me busy,” I say to myself aloud. I look around the house for something to clean. The next 45 minutes is filled with me doing the dishes, vacuuming the floor, and washing the windows. I've just finished the last window when the doorbell rings.
For a moment, I tidy myself up, pressing my dress down with my hands and fluffing my hair. I take the door handle within my small hands, its smooth metal cold against my skin, and turn it, hoping the person behind it will be female or, at least, polite.
Opening the door, I examine the man before me. He has a shock of long black hair. His green eyes and thin, manly lips are turned up in a forced smile. He holds out a hand.
“Hello, ma'am, I'm Al. You have a malfunctioning sink?” His deep voice is actually quite soothing. I allow him to shake my hand.
“I do. Come on in, I'll show you where it is.” I lead him into the house, and he shuts my heavy door behind him before following me into the bathroom. I watch him for a moment as he surveys the bathroom. As his eyes lead up the wall to the crucifix, one of his eyebrows leaps up and a smirk crosses his face for a split second before he composes himself. He turns to me with another forced smile.
“Alright, I'll get to work. I may be in and out.”
“Okay...” I say, nervous. I leave, going to sit on the couch to try and relax. Every few minutes I hear him grunt, or talk to himself, or a clatter of metal against ceramic. I decide it would be polite to go ask him if he would like something to eat or drink, and so I go back to the bathroom. His head is under the sink, his back arched and his loose jeans slipping. Once I see his butt crack, I avert my eyes. But then, I can't help but look again because I noticed he has ink on his skin. A tattoo of some kind. My eyes fall again and there it is.
Permanently on his skin is a tattoo of an upside down star in a circle. Around the circle are the words “Do as thou will shall be the whole of the law.”
There was a Satanist in my house!
I gasped, and the man jumped in surprise, hitting his head on the pipe and cursing. As he pulls himself out from beneath the sink, I try to hide the creeping horror that I know is plain to see on my face. “Uh I- I was just wondering if you'd like... something to eat or dr-drink?” I stutter, my face feeling hot.
“Sure, that'd be nice.”
I practically run out of the bathroom, panting in fear for my life. What could this man want from me? Why would anyone employ a Satanist in a job that allows them into good Christian homes? I am shaking head to toe as I dip my head into the fridge to grab the lemonade. I pull the pitcher out and turn to set it on the table behind me, only to find Al standing there, watching me. He has a wicked look on his face, and his tongue darts out and licks his lips.
“Saw you lookin' at my ass, ma'am,” he says, pushing his hair behind his ear. “Like what you see?”
He walks toward me, slowly, my skin crawling as I back into the counter to try and get away. My eyes look for some kind of weapon around me, but my knives are all behind this demon.
“What's wrong, scared of me?” He hisses, his lips parting slightly in a crooked grin.
“Stay away from me, Satanist!” I cry, slapping him and attempting to dash away. He grabs my arm, though, twisting it and pulling me close.
“Is that what this is all about? Can't handle a bit of,” he cups my breast, making me wince, “a bit of Satan in your home?” He holds my arm tight with one hand as he continues to molest me, squishing my breasts tightly with his fingers. He lets his hand slither down my body, feeling my curves. His hot breath is heavy as he reaches the top of my thigh, pulling up my dress so that he may stroke my silky skin.
Tears are streaming down my face as I try in vain to get away from him. His fingers are tickling my thigh, tracing circles and bringing forth bad feelings from my vagina. Feelings I try to avoid but for when my husband is around. Al's lips caress my neck, his tongue slipping through his parted lips as he further violates me by licking and biting me. “Please...” I sob, “Please stop!”
His fingers zoom up to my panties, feeling my folds. “You say stop, but your body seems to be telling me something else. You're fucking soaking, you slut!” His laugh is cold and evil. “What would your husband think? What would JESUS think?”
His fingers press deeper, manipulating the button at the top of my vagina. A moan escapes me, shaming me further for admitting that my body is enjoying his harassment. I am too weak to fight anymore, and he knows it. He lets go of my wrist and turns me around, pulling my dress up over my head.
I stand in front of him in only my bra and panties, both plain and white. Through the silk of my bra, Al feels my nipples with his thumb while rubbing at his crotch through his pants with his other hand. Th
e lewdness of it all makes my face scrunch up with disgust. “Now, now, if you keep making those faces I'll have to slap them off you.”
I try to relax my face, not wanting this to be any more painful than it already was. His hand was at my folds again, his finger poking through the fabric at my wetness.
“I bet you've never even called this a cunt before,” Al commented with a laugh. “What am I touching, slut?”
I gulp, not wanting to profane myself by saying such a dirty word. With a quickness that leaves my head spinning, my face is stinging before I even realize that he slapped me. I rub at my face with my mouth open in shock. “I asked you a question.”
I had to force the words out of my mouth. “You're touching my cunt...” I whisper, meekly. It's as loud as I can say it. Another slap tells me this wasn't good enough.
“Louder!” He bellows, the hand he isn't rubbing me with going to my throat.
“You're touching my cunt!”
“Sir!”
“You're touching my cunt, sir!” His hand moves from my throat, and I give a sigh of relief.
“How does it make you feel, whore?”
I think for a second. I've never said or even thought things like this before, but I don't want to get slapped. “It makes me feel... tingly. It feels good, sir.”
He backs away an inch, looking me up and down. “Take off your bra,” he commands. Another tear slips down my face as I do as I am told, the bra falling to the floor. “And your panties.” I hesitate, but I see his hand rise to slap me again and quickly push down the cotton panties to my knees, where they fall to the ground. I step out of them. Al eyes me again.
“How would you feel to get fucked by a Satanist? I bet you'd like that. I wonder how tight your prude pussy is,” he growls, pulling me closer to him. I can feel his hardness swelling beneath his pants, pressing against my mound as he sucks and bites on my neck again. His hands fall to my ass cheeks, spreading and kneading them. I whimper but I do not fight.
“Get down on your knees. Have you ever sucked a cock before?” I shake my head, looking up into his eyes pleadingly. He pushes on my shoulder, forcing me to the ground. Unzipping his pants and pushing them down, I choke back a sob when I see how large his meat is.
“Tell me what this is.” I know what he's asking.
“It's... It's a cock. Sir.” I try to avert my gaze, but his penis is huge. Much larger than Jack's. I worry that if he were to have sex with me, I might just split in two.
“Good girl. And you're going to learn to love this Satanic cock.” He cackles as he grabs my hair. “Open your mouth, bitch.”
I close my eyes, praying that I can do this well enough that he won't hurt me. Opening my mouth, I can smell the manliness of his penis. The smooth head slides onto my tongue and back to my throat. I expect to gag, but I don't. I am thankful for that, at least.
He holds my head still with my hair, forcing his cock down my throat and then back out, occasionally telling me to watch my teeth. I just let him fuck my face, hoping he will cum and leave. He face fucks me for 15 minutes, slowly and obviously enjoying it from the sound of his moans.
“You sure you ain't sucked cock before, bitch? Never sucked your priest's dick?” He laughs uproariously at his obscene joke while he continues to pound his meat down my throat. 8 inches. It has to be at least 8 inches long.
My jaw aches, but I'm finding I actually enjoy the taste and, God help me, the sensation. My... My cunt is aching, in a way I've never experienced before.
Before he can orgasm, he pulls me up by the hair. “You ready to get fucked by Satan's dick? Bend over, you slut. Let God and everyone see your holes.” He pushes me over the counter, forcing me to bend over with my ass high in the air. He feels me up, his fingers rubbing circles around my clitoris and making me squirm. After, he inserts a finger into my cunt.
“Damn, you are tight. This is gonna feel great for me, and it's gonna hurt you at first. I hope you're ready!” He comes up behind me. Taking his cock in his hand, Al rubs it all over my pussy, getting it wet with my juice.
Positioning himself and pulling me closer, his cock is aimed straight at my hole. Slowly, he enters me, my sopping pussy resisting him as much as it can. But to no avail. He enters me all the way down to his balls with a moan from both of us. He is so deep within me, deeper than I've ever felt. I can't help but gasp as his monster of a cock finds itself firmly planted within some sort of wall. The pressure is painful but pleasurable at the same time.
I can't explain it. All I know is that at that moment, I needed him to fuck me.
He pulled his penis out just a bit, but I bucked back into him. He tried to pull away again, but I forced him back inside me. There was a bark of a laugh behind me, and then a slap on my ass. His hands roughly hold my hips as he pulls almost all the way out and slams back into me, making me cry out in pain and ecstasy. “Oh god!” I shout.
He answers with another thrust, similarly forceful. And another. And another. He pounds my pussy as fast and as hard as he can, his pants and groans almost as loud as my own screams and moans. I push my cunt back onto his dick any time he pulls out, making the pounding harder yet. He grabs my hair and slaps my ass again, switching to quick but shallow strokes as he hits me in a spot over and over again that makes me see stars.
“Fuck me! Fuck me, you Satanic whore!” I cry. I can't help it. This sin feels so damn good, and I know I'll never get enough. One fuck from this man will never be enough for me. I need this huge, evil dick to fill my depths for the rest of my life. He leans over and grabs my tits, his thrusts slowing for just a second.
My impatient groan encourages him to pick up the speed again, his hips thrusting his dick deep within my sopping wet folds. I pinch my own nipples. I thrust my hand under myself and frig my clit. I cry out and scream and beg for more until finally I feel my orgasm force itself upon me. I thrust back a few more times before my whole body quakes with a spasm and I momentarily lose sight and just about every other sense.
The only thing I'm aware of is bliss coursing through my entire body. And then I'm back in this world, and I feel Al's hot cum spilling into my womb, and I am again taken over by orgasmic bliss. My knees give out, but Al catches me before I fall and crack my head open.
Helping me over to the couch, he lays me down. He zips himself back up and brings my dress over to me. I lay there, helpless and happy, while he goes back to the bathroom and finishes up the sink. When he's finished, he shows himself out, but not before leaving his business card on my kitchen counter.
FIGHT
A Bad Boy Redemption Romance
Cat Calloway
Here's a hot glimpse of the story to cum come:
I pounded my beer until I was a little buzzed. It was a nice bar, surprisingly, but I didn't want to be there anymore. “You wanna come back to my place?” I asked. Going home alone sounded like a lousy idea, and I missed the way his hands felt. “I want you to come back to my place with me,” I added. The look on his face told me he wanted to say no, and I just couldn't have that.
He looked at me for a good long while, then nodded. “Alright. Let's go.” We left the bar.
As soon as we got into my house, his mouth was on mine. Sudden unexpected emotions forced themselves upon me as I realized this felt right. Lust washed over me, but maybe that was just because of how drunk I was.
Brant broke the kiss and tipped my head to the side, revealing my neck. His lips left quick kisses on it before he bit down just hard enough to raise goosebumps on my skin.
“Ahh,” I moaned, gripping his suit. He sunk his teeth into me again, then pulled me over to the couch. He sat down and draped his arms over the back. It was clear what he wanted.
I thought for a second, then took a deep breath and bent down. My black dress hiked up over my thighs. Brant leaned back against the couch, smiling in anticipation.
Closing his eyes, he looked innocent for just a moment, but I knew that something much less innocent was hidden in those pan
ts. I slid my hand up his thigh, gripping his muscles and enjoying how hard they were. I wanted him to feel just how much I wanted him in every movement I made.
Taking the clasp of his buckle, I pulled it loose and slid the thick leather out from under him. My dainty hands pulled at Brant's pants, unbuttoning the clasp and pulling down the zipper. Brant gave a pleased sigh, running his hands through my hair.
His touch sent a shiver down my spine as I prepared to take him into my mouth for the first time in 4 years. Anticipation was building up within me.
Tossing back my hair, I grabbed his pants. He lifted himself so that I could with one smooth movement pull them down to his ankles, along with his boxer briefs. As soon as I saw his glorious cock, my eyes widened and I held my breath.
That was the cock I had been missing for so long. God, it looked delicious. It was so beautiful and so big, and it was already half hard and ready for me to take it. It twitched while I looked at it.
Licking my lips, I took his penis in my hand and gripped it tight. Merely holding his unbelievable cock in my hand forced a moan from my lips, a shiver down my spine. The muscles in my lower abdomen began to tickle and my mound was hot and soaking wet.
In a word, I was fucking horny.
My eyes flicked up at him, and I caught him watching me with a smirk on his face. His hand left my hair so that his arm could drape over the couch again, allowing me to take complete control over his prick.
“I'm going to suck your cock until you cum down my throat,” I told him, flashing him a grin. I was acting like a slut all of a sudden, and it felt damn good. Brant smiled back down at me, his rebellious jaw set, then leaned his head back and waited for me to get started.
His cock was so smooth, and it twitched in my hand. Moving it up and down, I allowed his foreskin to slide along with my hand. He shifted in his seat, his stomach muscles tensing then relaxing.