Little Brats: Georgia: Forbidden Taboo Erotica Read online

  “Come for me!” Her stepfather’s voice boomed, his hand on the back of his wife’s head as he fucked her mouth. “Come for me now!”

  Georgia cried out as her stepfather looked up, straight at her. The man’s wife was climaxing, shaking all over with pleasure, swallowing his cum the best she could—he spilled copious amounts of the stuff and it dribbled out the sides of her mouth—but Georgia knew, she knew, he was really talking to her. He wanted his stepdaughter to come. Now. Right fucking now.

  And to Georgia’s own shock and surprise, her body responded to his command.

  She came, with such great force she thought it might tear her apart, even though Georgia hadn’t touched herself. As the hot, quivering pulses ripped through her, stole her breath, gave her already shaking body the strength of gelation, she knelt, stunned, feeling the flood of her juices that had already soaked her panties move onto her thighs. Even as her mother shook all over with her contractions, her stepfather pulled everything from her body and unbound her.

  He walked from the space Georgia could see into as her mother moved slowly, like a wounded animal, off the table to grab a robe. Her stepfather cradled the woman, soothing her, and she looked up at him with such worship and admiration, it took Georgia’s breath away. She knew that feeling. She knew it well.

  Georgia’s phone buzzing in her pocket startled her, and she blinked a few times before she gained the wits back to grab the thing. Sliding her hand over the screen to read the text that had come through, under her father’s name and number, it said, “Sitting Room. 8:00AM.”

  She saw him looking up at her.

  Then the room went dark.

  Her alarm pulled her from a deep sleep at seven-fifty in the morning. The smell of her own sex hit her first as she pushed aside her covers, littered with sex toys. Groggy, she pulled on clothes, still waking up as she ran down to the sitting room. She entered to find her father sitting on a chair, legs crossed, one arm propped up on the arm of the leather, his first two fingers swirling over his thumb.

  In his weekend silk dress pants and shirt, no tie, he was a harsh contrast to her mother, the frail shell of a woman who stood in the corner, shoulders slumped, head down, in a basic black frock of a dress. Georgia entering had not even roused the woman.

  “Say good-bye to your mother, Georgia.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “She’s traveling to Spain today to be admitted into a recovery clinic where she’ll be treated and instructed to reclaim her spirit.”

  Her mother lifted her head slightly as Georgia went to hug the woman. Wrapping her arms around the tired, defeated skeleton, she wondered if her mother had a spirit left to reclaim. Giving her a gentle squeeze, acutely aware her mother hadn’t even made an effort to raise her arms to hug her daughter back, tears stung Georgia’s eyes only a second before she willed them away.

  “You have the spirit,” her mother whispered into her ear.

  Pulling back, Georgia’s face scrunched up in shock and horror, her mind playing through the possible implications of the woman’s words as, with the ding of a bell, a servant appeared to take her mother away to a waiting car. Georgia could see it through the corner of the window.

  “I expect you bathed and in the Wine Cellar Tasting Room by nine o’clock,” her father demanded, his harsh tone making her jump, her ass tighten. “Wear that black whorish shit you do to school. Doll yourself up, goth-girl. And bring your toys.”

  She turned to look at him, willing the terror on her face into a blank stare. She’d been excited yesterday, but now, it was real. This was really happening. Fear clawed her belly. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her. Needing nothing more than that to gratefully flee to her room, Georgia sprinted as fast as her legs would carry her through the big house to her room.

  Breathing heavily, she grabbed her luggage out of her closet and began to pull her good stuff from her drawers. After tossing it in wrinkled clumps into the big suitcase, she grabbed the smaller bag and went to the bathroom to pack her secret stash of makeup and jewelry.

  The man is crazy. This situation is crazy. I won’t be broken like my mother by Mister Rich and Dominating. He can’t have his way with me, she thought, as images from last night plowed through her head.

  But that was the problem. Those images hadn’t horrified her at the time. They had appealed to her. Aroused her. Something happened in her body, a need grew, throbbed. She wanted to see herself bound to that table. She nearly hyperventilated, imagining that butt plug in her own ass, the large vibrating wand on her clit. Her hand reached down, seeking heat, finding her cunt quivering and wet. Pushing her fingers hard against the sensation, she steadied herself.

  Seeing her hairbrush on the sink, she impulsively yanked at her waistband and shoved her pants down. Grabbing the brush and cocking her hip to the side, she brought the round head of the plastic down hard on her ass. With a sharp intake of breath, she rode out the pleasure building in her body from the sting.

  He’ll never break me, she thought with a devious grin as she put down the brush. Kicking off her pants, she stormed half-naked to her room and ripped all the clothes back out of her suitcase. Shoving them back into the drawers, not bothering to hide them under her house clothes this time, she primed herself for what was to come.

  Back in the bathroom, she literally tipped the toiletry bag so that it emptied its contents into her still open drawer. Going back to her bed, she gathered up her small collection of toys to wash off and pack up in her bag, preparing to bathe, dress, and meet her stepfather head on.

  Arriving at the Wine Cellar Tasting Room a few minutes early, Georgia looked over the bottles and glassware adorning the walls and ceiling. The colors of burnt orange and desert brown were softened by strings of real dried grapevine wrapped in little white lights and plastic grapes draped over just about everything from rafters to shelves. Old wine barrels acquired at a high prices formed tables to serve and dine from.

  She felt out of place in her tight black dress with lace arms, torn hose and heeled, knee-high leather boots. The top of the dress was corset-like, her breasts pressed together, pushed up high into two large, round mounds of white flesh. The heavy material of the dress clung to all of her curves, accentuating each one. She straightened her back and stood up tall, catching her reflection in the etched mirror.

  Her hair, painted black and slicked into fringes around her face made a nice frame for her white powdered cheeks, heavy eye shadow and thick blue-black lipstick. She admired the way she’d painstakingly drawn wings with eye liner around her eyes, giving her full cheeks a more dramatic edge. She watched her eyes turned to slits as she heard her stepfather’s footsteps enter the room.

  Before she could turn to face him, he stated firmly, “First order of business is your punishment for disobeying the no tattoo rule, telling lies about me on the phone, and dressing like a devilish whore outside of this house. Second on my agenda is a reward for staying and obeying my orders. Follow me.”

  He turned and she obeyed, walking behind him, matching him step for step, until he stopped to unlock the door to the “storage” room. As he turned on the bright overhead lights, the table she’d seen last night loomed in the center, surrounded by a metal chest, open and filled with sex toys, along with restraints hanging from the walls and ceiling. As she scanned the wide open area, a black leather chair, ornate and throne-like, sat up on a small stage built in one corner. Crops and other punishment devices hung from a rack. The whole place was a bright, stark, white against black, and it welcomed her, made her giddy just to stand in the place.

  He obviously spared no expense for his little dungeon of horrors, she thought, tightening her mouth against the devilish grin she felt threatening to break out over her face.

  He slammed the door, giving her a start before he circled around her.

  “You are a dramatic little deviant, aren’t you?” he asked, grabbing her arm in his big hand and yanking her with him to his throne.

  Sitting down, he pulled her
to him, bending her over his thighs, as he laid down the law.

  “You will obey my every command. You will not struggle. You will not come during your punishment.”

  With that, he brought his hand down twice, once on each cheek, still covered by her dress. She bit her lip to keep from crying out with the sheer pleasure, the feeling of his large hands hitting her ass. She grew wetter, his command not to orgasm giving her a moment of pause. Pulling her skirt up to expose her lace-covered cheeks, he spanked her again, just twice with his hand, one hard, resounding smack per cheek, and this time the blows were upward, causing an increased sting. The heat grew, made her want to wiggle, actually beg for more, but she clenched her ass in order to fight the urge.

  “No clenching,” he commanded with another set of spanks.

  She felt him grab the back of her panties and pull. The lace tore, biting into her thighs as it released. She breathed through the glorious sting, her pussy trembling already. If she could come without touching herself, she feared her fate with her stepfather laying his hands on her.

  “Reach your hands back and grab that gorgeous ass of yours I plan to redden every inch of,” he insisted. As she moved her arms, he added, “You shall say, yes, Daddy, each time you obey.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she managed as her fingers touched her warmed ass cheeks.

  Her black-painted nails cut into her flesh, and she wished she could see the sight he did. She wished she could be up above, looking down through the glass like she had before. She wanted to see herself, see him doing this to her. He hit her again, twice, making her gasp.

  “Open yourself to me,” he spat.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she said as she pulled her cheeks apart, showing him her puckered hole that tightened and released in anticipation.

  “I have a fucking pain in the ass whore of a daughter, don’t I?” he asked. “Look at that ass, begging me for more. Dare we find your pain threshold?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she grunted out each word as his fingers hit her hole with two good taps.

  She felt the tremors of the pain blissfully shoot through her core, tightening her stomach in the expectation of more.

  “Spread your legs and show me that pale little pussy,” he added.

  She did so, feeling her inner walls pulse as she exposed herself to him. His fingers, tight together, came down with two swats on her wet folds. Her hips bucked. God, she wanted something shoved inside her. Preferably his cock.

  In response, the fingers of his other hand pushed under her stomach, finding her sticky wet pussy, pressing hard against her clit. His other hand came down hard on her ass, pushing her hands aside and then falling harder than they had onto her cheeks four more times in fast clip. Each smack forced her clit harder against the pads of his fingers.

  “You’ve already earned yourself a more severe punishment,” he said, pulling her by her hair to get her to stand. He walked her over to the cuffs hanging from the ceiling and bound her hands in them up over her head. Coming around to face her, his already chiseled features held tight, he pulled at the ties on her corset-like dress. She forced herself not to wiggle against the feel of the material now laying over her stinging ass.

  In strong, fluid movements, he ripped the material until she soon hung there naked, apart for her torn thigh highs and boots. He grabbed a small leather whip, a flogger with thick leather, from the wall, and without pause, brought it across her round breasts. Her nipples hardened, and she dared clench her ass and thighs against the pulsing need to be taken, invaded. Luckily he hadn’t noticed as he’d moved on to whip the leather strips down along her waist, legs and back. The caress of this light torment blanketed her body—titillating torture. She was proving to be more of a pain whore than she’d even dreamed she could be.

  He kicked her feet further apart as he brought the instrument of blessed misery across her red ass. The sting stole her breath, her stomach knotting, the pleasure boiling up there. She knew at this point he held back, but as he went, whipping her body, the sting grew to a glorious fire, a glow inside and out. At this point, she already wanted him so much, she would have endured anything, even if she hadn’t wanted more. Each bite of pain brought her pleasure she’d never known, could never have imagined.

  Reeling in her wondrous misery, punishment and lust, she opened her eyes only when he released her wrists. Moving her to the table, he boosted her up, cold and business-like, his every touch kindling the fire already smoldering within her. He arranged her over the three metal bars she’d seen her mother restrained in. The highest one was under her hips, keeping her ass high in the air. The middle one at her back, he pushed her under, and the lowest one he cuffed her wrists to. Her legs—pulled apart enough to make her muscles protest the stretch—were bound at the knees to the base of the highest bar.

  “Take a minute to collect yourself while I go through your little toy collection,” he said as he rubbed his hand hard over her heated ass cheek like a reminder.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she breathed as he went for her bag.

  “This is a sad assortment.” He shook his head as he pulled out her dildos, the egg and the little plastic nubby thing she wore around her finger to play with her clit.

  “Yes, Daddy.” She wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

  “Nothing for your ass either. Does that make you an ass virgin?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she confessed.

  “We’ll do something about that,” he threatened. “It may be part of your punishment the first time, but you’ll learn to like it by the time you take my dick in your tight little asshole.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” Oh yes, yes, fuck yes.

  She watched him grab an anal plug, something a great deal smaller than she’d seen him use on her mother. Moving behind her, he brought his hand down on her puckered hole a few more times, warming it up before he dropped cold gel onto it. She couldn’t help but clench, and he didn’t chide her this time. Instead, he let out a low laugh, an amused chuckle.

  “Relax,” he said, reaching his hand between her legs, taking her own juices and smearing them over her clit.

  “Yes, Daddy.” She whimpered at his touch.

  With the pads of his fingers, he alternated between small spanks to her clit and then circular rubs. She couldn’t squirm if she’d wanted to in this position. As he continued to punish her clit, a relentless tease, he slowly eased the plug into her lubricated asshole. She felt the tight muscles resist and then finally give way. The slight burn of this invasion thrilled her pussy, made it tingle until it throbbed. With his hand still at her clit, the butt plug easing in inch by inch, she came, clenching her teeth together not to cry out, but the contractions, hard and fast, made her body tremble. She couldn’t hide it from him.

  “You were told not to climax during your punishment.” He expressed his disapproval with a deep sigh.

  “Yes, Daddy.” Oh, that thing in her ass, stretching her open! It was heaven, a terrible, dark, twisted sort of torture. Her orgasm was still rocking her body, so full, so completely filled.

  “Looks like you’re an ass whore as well, my curvy little daughter. Still, as much as this idea pleases me, I’ll have to punish you for disobeying my order with your climax.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” She hung her head, filled with fear as well as excitement.

  Before she could contemplate the meaning of this, she heard the whoosh of a riding crop through the air. The tiny bite of leather on the end hit her upper thigh first, granting her a burst of hot pain that shot to her stomach, making it flip and flutter. As he continued, the tiny implement of torture hitting her ass, the plug, even tapping from time to time against her mound, she begged him with everything, every fiber of her being, to be taken. She didn’t vocalize it, but she willed it. She wanted him to take her, to fuck her harder than she ever had been before.

  Her every nerve ending burned, on edge, she couldn’t tell where one stream of pain began and one roll of pleasure ended. Hot, sweating, filled with lust, her step
father pulled the butt plug out only to push it back in again. Oh fuck! That hot, burning stretch again, that tight ring of muscle. No, Daddy, noooo! Her mind begged him to stop, but her body pleaded that he go on and on and on.

  “Your punishment for coming will be severe.” His fingers moved between her thighs. He pinched her clit and she gasped. “This is mine. It belongs to me. You will never, ever come without my permission first. Understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” Her thighs trembled. Her clit pulsed between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I’m going to show you that this clit belongs to me.” He squeezed it and she gasped, biting her lip. “I’m going to make you climax again and again. You’re bound here for my pleasure, and I can do to you what I like. You are stripped bare before me and always will be, unable to escape your own wicked desires.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Open,” he said, as he arrived at her head.

  She blinked to focus as he shoved, not the cock she’d been hoping for, but a ball gag into her mouth.

  “My wand will make you cry out, despite your willful nature.”

  He disappeared back behind her again and she heard him start up the big wand he’d used on her mother. He placed the vibrating head against her clit, buzzing the poor thing to life again. She came fast and hard, in just seconds. Her vision blurred, her stomach clenched. She felt the overwhelming need to close her legs, to get a break from the pleasure, but no. This was his torture. He left the wand vibrating there.

  He was right. She cried out. She begged him to stop. But words wouldn’t form, not with the gag in her mouth. Multiple, forced orgasms ripped through her, tightening her stomach again and again until the muscles hurt, turning her body into a quivering mess. The aftershocks of the orgasms continued, each flowing into the next brutal rush of pleasure, until she cried out freely, seeing stars, feeling she would die from one more contraction. She screamed. She screamed as he brought her to a full orgasm again, each one harder than the last, until they blurred her vision completely.