TABOO TALES(erotica)

He pushed and pulled the anal dildo. “Fuck!” she yelled around his cock. He wished he could simultaneously shoot a hot load up her ass. He controlled her sucking by pulling the clamps. He yanked on them rhythmically when he wanted her to deep throat him. She buried his shaft down her throat as her screaming nipples and labia were stretched by the merciless hot metal. Still yanking her nipples, he pushed back her head until his cock popped out of her mouth and spewed his load onto her contorted face as she twisted beneath him, desperately trying to catch and swallow his discharge. When he’d finished, her head fell forward, exhausted. His cum formed a stream sliding off her eyebrows, nose and chin, joining the pool of drool on the chair.

He remembered the camera she’d recently given him as a birthday present. After taking a series of photographs of her limp, dripping form with its metal adornments, he removed the clamps and the dildo and freed her robe from the chair. She moaned as blood re-entered the abused parts. After writing a note in big block letters with a marker pen, he placed it on the table in front of her and left the kitchen.

Matt doubted she’d still visit his bedroom that night, his cock semi-hard even though he’d cum only a couple of minutes previous. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully and they went to bed without seeing each other. Not surprisingly, she never came to his room to say goodnight. He figured he had exhausted her. And he wasn’t too disappointed. After all, he thought, he’d humiliated her by putting her again into an improvised bondage, clamping her luscious tits, shoving a makeshift dildo up her ass and giving her a mind-bending series of orgasms. Not to mention having a highly satisfying jerk off himself. And giving her ongoing orders in the note when she opened her eyes in the kitchen.

Also, he now had outstandingly obscene and degrading photos of her. Maybe his cousin, Alex, would enjoy seeing them. But the night was not yet finished, and he was to learn a big lesson in terms of Janice’s endless capacity and insatiable appetite.

In Chapter Twelve, Matt proves to be handy with a slightly larger household appliance and expands his photography.

-The Hair Blower

The tortured mother had spent an hour in bed tossing under the sheet, tormented by jet lag, thinking about her sadistic son, Matthew. She was astounded at how determined and masterful he had been. It was one thing to make his hot, submissive mother strip naked, jerk his cock or suck his dick; that’s what all boys wanted from girls. It was quite another brazenly inventive mind that would fasten a clamp to her baby doll, bind her breasts, crush her frozen nipples inside an air conditioner, immerse her tits in scalding sun block, bind them with shoelaces, spray and spank her nipples, crush them with heated tea clamps, or give her a royal ass-fucking with a perfume bottle. Never before had she experienced so much pain or, as a result, such obliterating orgasms. He never missed a trick. Like the note she had read when she awoke in the kitchen chair. “Do not wash your face or body. Wear the same baby doll and panties.”

She had picked up the baby doll and panties from beneath the chair, where they’d been dripped on by a combination of sweat, lotion, saliva, cunt juice and semen. Obediently, she had dragged them onto herself. Disgusted with her abject compliance and the sodden garment, she had trudged upstairs to bed. Despite feeling spent and sore, covered with the sordid lingerie reeking of cum and cunt, her entire body still felt electrified, as if it was ready for more.

After a futile hour in bed, the restless mother went to the kitchen to brew a pot of calming herbal tea. In the kitchen, the diary looked undisturbed in the book holder. She was obsessed with whether or not Matt had violated her privacy by reading it during her vacation.

Once again, she had forgotten to make her weekly entry. She knew she needed more consistency in making entries regularly, but it was so hard to discipline herself. While waiting for the tea to brew, she reviewed the details of her subjugation after dinner. The memories of Matt incapacitating her arms, the mister scorching her nipples, the flyswatter raking across her nipples, the perfume bottle thrust all the way into her ass, the heated nipple and pussy clamps, sucking Matt’s delicious cock down to the root, and the string of massive orgasms-all made her hot all over again-especially the memory of licking and sucking his cock until he found release by showering her spread and helpless body with a fountain of his seed.

She sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen on a stool, in the same way she had sat since childhood, the heels of her high slippers hanging on the sides of its horizontal bars. Riffling through the pages, she found two pages stuck together. With difficulty, she peeled them apart, finding sticky white streaks and clumps obliterating the text beneath. She wondered if she’d spilled food there while writing late one night. Curious, she held the book closer to her face and sniffed. The spots had a familiar odor.

Completely absorbed in the spots, she was oblivious of anything else, so she was unaware that Matthew had woken to take a pee and, wearing only his summer robe and pajama pants, padded quietly down the staircase to get a glass of juice. He stopped at the kitchen entrance, surprised to see his mother. Since she was sitting at the side of the island, he had a full view of her short robe, not even reaching midway on her thighs, and the smooth, widespread legs.

Holding the book closer still, she extended the tip of her tongue and touched it to the thickest spot. It tasted sweet, salty and good. She felt restless again, squirming on the stool, her breath uneven. Unable to resist, Janice extended her entire tongue and licked up the entire length of the page. Her chest began heaving as her breathing deepened. Even though she savored the salty taste, she was thirsty from the salt so she raised her tea mug to clear her mouth. She saw Matthew, arms folded across his bare chest, staring at her from the doorway. She jerked, spilling most of the hot tea on her robe, drenching it. “Oh!” she said, unable to move her gaze from his eyes, dying with embarrassment that he’d probably seen her licking the page of a book.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Mother.” Matthew entered the kitchen.

“That’s okay, Matt-I mean Matthew, I was just absorbed in my book. It’s my fault,” she said, still staring.

“Absorbed in writing a new recipe, I guess. You made quite a mess there, didn’t you? The second mess in one day.” He stepped closer, stopping at the end of the island.

“Yes, I’m afraid I did.” She set down her mug on the island. For the first time, Janice broke off her stare and looked down at her chest, as if it belonged to another person. The hot tea had soaked through the thin robe. She felt her nipples hardening from the hot liquid.

He came closer, standing in front of her. “Open your robe so the air can get underneath to dry it.” Janice sat there, frozen. “Do it!” he said in a low voice.

Remembering the vicious punishments he’d administered earlier, she slowly untied the belt, grabbed the lapels and opened the robe a couple of inches. “All the way,” he ordered. As if in slow motion, she spread the robe completely. Her appearance now was similar to how she had looked during dinner. The fabric of her wet baby doll looked as if it wasn’t even there, clinging to every inch of her large breasts. They were completely visible. Moreover, her thick nipples had grown and hardened from the hot liquid.

“The baby doll will dry more quickly if you leave it like that,” he said, turning the stool so she faced him directly. “Exposed to the air. You look as if you’ve won 1st prize in a wet T-shirt contest. Like a young girl half your age. Is that what you’d call age appropriate?” She was staring at herself, now aware that her legs were still wide open. She lifted her heels off the sidebars and replaced them on the stool’s front bar, closing her legs.

“Open them back to where they were.” She lifted her head and stared at him again, eyes wide with fear and excitement. When she remained immobile, he placed a hand on the naked inside of each thigh and pushed her thighs apart, hooking the shoes over the sidebars again, but wider than before. His touch felt like a surge of electricity to her thighs, leading directly to her cunt.

Matthew walked to a drawer, removed a fresh dishtowel, walked back to his mother, and handed it to her. “You’d better wipe yourself.” Relieved, she took the towel, folded it a few times and, draping it over herself, patted her chest.

“Not like that,” he said. “Firmly.” Matthew took the towel out of her hands. Instead of dabbing her chest like Janice did, he rubbed the towel on her, beginning at her neck and stroking firmly the center of her chest. He returned to the neck, but rubbed the towel with more force over her left breast. He repeated the movement down her right breast. When he pulled the towel away, her sore nipples were no longer just hard, they were also extended by a half inch, moderate for Janice.

She just looked at him. Her complexion had deepened. “You’re not going to get much rest tonight if you wait for both of those clothes to dry. Don’t move.” He went to her bathroom and returned with the new hair dryer she’d told him about earlier in the evening. He also held a bag containing attachments.

He plugged the hair dryer into an outlet in the island, turned it on low heat, and aimed it at Janice’s face. “Does that feel OK?” She nodded. It felt great. As he lowered his aim to her chest, she started squirming on the stool. When the hot air hit her breasts, she began moaning and wriggling. “Stay still!” he said.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.