Dirty Forbidden Collection

by Amira Bradford

  "Come here," you growl. I go to you, expecting you need a hug. Instead you grab me by the arm and pull me over your lap. Out of instinct I struggle against you as you lift the back of my short skirt. It was a warm day so I didn't wear any stockings. The only thing covering my ass is the little bit of red mesh that is my panties. I go still as your hand spanks me, surprised into submission.

  A couple of more smacks on my ass wakes me out of my stupor as the stinging starts. You've never spanked me out of anger before. Usually the punishment is playful and it's my idea. Today you're taking your anger out on me, and it scares me a little. I try to cover my ass with my hands so we can talk about this. You roughly grab both my wrists with your left hand and hold them out in front of me. Your right hand keeps spanking my ass, pinning me to your lap.

  Suddenly you stop. I breathe a sigh of relief, trying to ignore the throbbing. I feel your fingernails scratching my tender flesh. The light touch normally wouldn't bother me, but the spanking left me so sensitive that I gasp. I hear you chuckle. Then you plunge two fingers inside my pussy. We are both surprised by how wet I am as your fingers slide in easily. I moan as you slide them back out. Without warning you unleash a flurry of slaps on my ass. It's almost as if you are angry that I am wet, that even though I am frightened and unsure about what is happening I am still excited. I cry out as you punish me, hardly able to catch my breath.

  You take a break, and I turn my head to look up at you. "What do you want from me," I plead, the tears forming in my eyes. You think for a minute, then tell me to stand up. I struggle to compose myself as I pull my skirt back down and stand before you. "Strip," you command. Not sure what else to do, I obey.

  My fingers shake as I unbutton my shirt and peel it off my shoulders. I reach around behind me and unzip my skirt and drop it to the floor. I'm left wearing my red mesh bra and matching bikini, along with my black patent leather heels. Stripper shoes, you've joked in the past. I pause, unsure if you want me naked or not. "Loose the underwear, keep the shoes." I search your face to see if you are serious. You are. I unhook the front closure of my bra and my breasts spill out as I drop the bra to the floor. Finally I hook my thumbs under the sides of my panties and slide them down over my hips and past my heels. I straighten up and stand before you completely naked and vulnerable.

  You don't say anything, just gesture me to come closer. I do, expecting that I have to undress you now. I get right in front of you and you reach up towards my chest. I think you are going to caress me. Instead you open your hand and slap my left breast. Again I gasp, surprised by you. You slap it again, watching it swing as it reddens. I start to back away. You reach out with your other hand and squeeze my right nipple hard. If I try to pull away it hurts even more, so I have no choice but to stand there and let you spank my tits. I moan as you work them, slapping and pinching me until I can barely stand. Finally you stop.

  "I'll tell you what I want from you," you say as you stand up and start unbuttoning your pants. "I want to take you up the ass. Get on all fours." You jerk your head towards the bed. I hesitate for a moment. All the anal play we've done before has been gentle and easy, taking our time to make it as comfortable as possible. I can tell today you are in no mood to be gentle, and that scares me. You pull your belt out of the loops and swing it at me. It snaps against my upper thigh, leaving a welt behind. That's all the motivation I need. I climb onto the bed onto my hands and knees, ass up in the air. I bury my face in the pillow and wait to see how this plays out.

  I feel you settle on the bed behind me. I hear you unzip your fly and take your cock out. You aren't even going to bother getting undressed for this. You grab the bottle of lube from the bedside table and I'm grateful that you at least aren't going to try to take me dry. I feel a couple of cold drops on my asshole, which makes it tighten up. You spread a little on yourself. Then I feel the head of your cock nudging against my back door.

  I exhale as the tip gains entry inside me. The familiar feelings of pain and pleasure mix as I try to relax so I can take you fully. However, you aren't going as slow as you usually do, and I can feel your entire length filling me up quickly. The pain becomes intense as you try to push further inside me and I tense up. You pull almost all the way out, the pain receding until you push back into me. You are getting frustrated that I'm too tight for you to fuck me as hard as you want, so you start spanking my ass as you thrust into it. I can't hold myself up anymore. I have to support myself with my elbows, my cries muffled by the pillow. My breasts are rubbing against the comforter as you push into me. They are still sensitive from earlier and the way they feel against the material excites me. I'm widening out from all of your thrusting so it's finally getting easier for you to fuck me hard.

  You lean down and growl in my ear, "Play with yourself while I take you." I reach down and find my clit. It's very wet from all my juices running out. I try to wipe it off the best I can so that I have enough friction on it to come. I rub myself, causing my muscles to clench around your cock making it tight again. You don't slow down. You just keep pushing into me, occasionally smacking my ass as you pump it. I'm rubbing my clit fast and hard, feeling my orgasm build. So many sensations at once; it's almost too much as I feel myself climbing. By my moans and cries you can tell I'm close so you keep fucking my ass in the same rhythm, pulling my hips onto you. Finally it breaks as my muscles contract and I'm screaming into the pillow, unaware of what I'm saying, only focused on the intensity of the orgasm. The pulsing of my ass on your cock takes you over the edge as you come, pounding into my quivering ass, shooting your come deep inside me as you cry out in pleasure. Finally your thrusts stop as you finish. You pause for a second and then pull out of me as I gasp one last time and collapse onto the bed. I hear you zip your pants back up and head towards the door. I turn my head to watch you leave. You look less angry now. You stop in the doorway and look back at me. "When you're up to it," you say, "clean yourself up and I'll take you to dinner." I guess that's my reward for being punished.

  The End.

  Bodyguard

  Burgeonie, spoke quietly with Silvonia.

  "Silvy, do you ever look at your Guard?"

  Her friend looked confused.

  The two noblewomen were having a light lunch together in the sanctity of Burgeonie's fortified mansion. Burgeonie, at least, was confined to the house for the entire day by necessity. Her Bodyguard, Baynor, had his day of leave. And Silvy's Guard had gone with him. And the two Noblewomen friends had arranged to spend the day together in their Warriors' absence.

  Burgeonie was required to allow Baynor to leave whenever he requested absence, to serve his needs, but she didn't mind. It gave her the chance to speak of something forbidden with her best friend. Something to do with him.

  Burgeonie could talk of him now only because Baynor was with the Warrior Whores, having his needs satisfied by many women, as was custom for the Warrior kind.

  Silvy looked perplexed, wondering what Burgeonie was getting at.

  "Well, no. I have never looked. But it's forbidden for them to look at us. So I just assumed always I did right by the Warriors to not look at them."

  Burgeonie blushed, not knowing quite how to broach this delicate subject with her friend. She tried a different angle.

  "Have you not ever watched yours while he bathes? As he sleeps? When you take a lover to bed?" Burgeonie stared hard at Silvy, willing her to understand what she feared she could not simply say.

  "Burgeonie, their beliefs and their code are sacred. I am ever grateful my Warrior protects me. I respect his way of life. Why do you ask?"

  Burgeonie sighed. She'd have to come out and say it. She believed she could trust her oldest friend not to speak of it to anyone else, but still, old habits die hard and they were taught from birth to keep the classes segregated, in life, in deed, in word and in thought. The Warrior class, of all classes, believed in this code with all their strength and heart. It helped them to focus so they could do their jobs.

  T
aking a deep breath, Burgeonie just plunged straight in.

  "I... My Guard is beautiful," she spoke, softly, reverently. "When we met, I saw the most lovely man I have ever seen. But apart from that, I saw something else, felt and heard something. In his eyes, there was such hunger. In his voice, such buried yearning. I think that he loves me."

  Silvonia was openly shocked, her mouth hanging open wide.

  "Tell me details," she smiled, betraying her own secret curiosity of the strict Warrior men.

  Burgeonie looked pained, as if what she spoke of was so sacred, that to utter words would be to sully it.

  But finally, she said, "I was so struck by his beauty and the discordance of longing in his soul, that I peeked while we bathed."

  Silvonia's brows hit the roof.

  "Oh, Silvy. His body is poetry in motion, his muscles are sculpted like an angel, powerful and perfect. His face reflects the beauty of Heaven above. And... I looked at his manhood."

  Silvonia gasped.

  "Tell me of the Warrior's sword. Oh I'm dying to know. I've heard such stories."

  Burgeonie rolled her eyes at her friend, but secretly she was greatly relieved to be able to confide in her.

  Burgeonie swallowed, closing her eyes as she remembered the sight of her Warrior's naked body and penis. Her body fluttered involuntarily, responding to the memory of glimpsing her own virile example of masculine power.

  "It is magnificent. It hangs the length of my forearm, as thick around as my wrist. His sac is heavy, like plums. The cap of his weapon is sleek, like a helmet. And... I have seen it in readiness."

  Silvonia's eyes lit up.

  "Tell me all of it, in detail."

  Burgeonie worried at her lower lip with her teeth.

  "Well, when it is engorged, its color blushes to deep pink. It grows in size and stiffens, stretching up high and bowing when he walks. Dewy beads of fluid seeped from its slit. While we bathed, when he thought I was not looking, I saw him grip the shaft in his fist and rub it."

  Burgeonie demonstrated the graceful pumping motion of primal male self-pleasure.

  "He realized it not, but he groaned aloud. Ohh, the sound! It made me wet for him."

  "I can imagine. Tell me, have you taken a lover to bed with Baynor?"

  Silvy referred to the rule that the Warrior's charges may not ever be left alone, unguarded, not even during intimate couplings.

  "Yes. Just once. Baynor looked pained with emotion and his tool bulged in his breeches. Silvy, would it be terribly wrong to ease him? I want to feel his maleness. I want to satisfy my warrior."

  ----

  The warmth of the water seeped into Baynor's muscles.

  He didn't feel aches or pains really but the heat was soothing anyway, and Burgeonie desperately needed the bath to get warm.

  He had placed her in the hot pool after carefully removing her clothes, averting his eyes the whole time.

  Bodyguards did not mean anything to their Charges, as the law was taught. Guards were there for protection only. And so Baynor pushed aside his own desire to protect his beautiful Charge from the chill of Death himself.

  When he'd removed his own clothes and slipped into the large hot bath pool beside her, it was business only. Be near your Charge at all times. Those were the rules.

  So he lay on his side facing Burgeonie and tried to enjoy the bath as he waited for her to awaken.

  In the four years since he'd been pledged to protect her, he'd been naked with her many times, in bed with her many times, and not one stray thought, not one furtive glance, and definitely no inappropriate touch. That was the code.

  He'd been diligent in all aspects of his job. Except one.

  Bodyguards were not supposed to care for their Charges.

  And he hadn't before. His previous Charges were all business arrangements. He hardly remembered what they looked like, so much he'd avoided looking at them, as was proper.

  You don't get emotionally involved. It throws off your instincts and skills. And besides, the Charge should feel like they are always alone.

  He'd been in bedrooms dozens of times while his Charges had sexual intercourse, as part of the furniture, though he could hear the liquid sounds of sex, the grunts and groans of fucking, smell the musky scent.

  He'd been in showers while they bathed, bathing himself. Ignored by the Charge and ignoring.

  But not Burgeonie.

  When he'd accepted the post, the only time he was permitted to speak with and closely look at his Charge, he'd met her and had been astonished. She was so tiny, so fragile, gamine and fey in her pale-haired, pale-skinned beauty, so different from his darkness. He'd immediately worried about her, a cardinal rule already broken.

  He should have rescinded his post straight away, by the laws, but he didn't. He couldn't. He had to protect her. It was a need in him so strong it couldn't be overruled. He would devotedly sacrifice his considerably large muscles and bones, happily siphon off his lifeblood, in the course of discharging his duty. He would die for Burgeonie. He cared that much.

  In the world of Warriors, it was expected of them to die for their Charges, but the death was clean, dispassionate, a strategy employed to tactical advantage. Not because you loved the Noblewoman. The emotion itself could cause massive errors in judgment, get the Charge killed and instead of the Guard. It was utterly forbidden.

  But Baynor didn't care. His heart was taken and his fate was sealed the moment he laid eyes on her.

  Burgeonie lay facing him, unconscious and shivering.

  She'd been attacked today, for her jewels, and had gotten caught in the snow as Baynor dispatched the assailant in a violent rage.

  She had been freezing, had fallen faint. In a panic, he'd carried her to the nearest bathhouse to warm her up.

  And here they were.

  Burgeonie's skin was so soft where he'd had to touch it to move her, undress her, so soft and pale. His big warrior body had betrayed him and gotten hard, his penis punching erect and throbbing.

  He'd have to go visit a Warrior Whore soon, maybe straight after. He needed to ejaculate and that's what the Whores were for, to keep Bodyguards and Warriors, burdened with insatiable appetites, on a level.

  Their bodies were carnal engines, huge and strong, and the visits to the Whores were the few times Bodyguards ever left their Charges. But Baynor hated that he had to do it, to sully his own body with women he knew not and cared not for. He wished he could sate his desires with Burgeonie, with his love.

  But the notion was ridiculous. Burgeonie cared as much for him as the bed she slept on, the food she ate. Which is to say, not at all.

  Baynor blamed her not, it was how all were raised.

  He tried to suppress his pulsating cock while placing her in the pool and had managed only somewhat. His dick was at half-mast but if he avoided touching it, the erection would eventually go limp.

  Still. He really wanted to fist it, pump it off until his come spurted everywhere. Inwardly he swore. He'd waited too long again to see the Whores.

  He closed his eyes, blocking at least his view of her naked skin, and tried to brand this experience, this closeness with Burgeonie, as commonplace, routine.

  Bodyguards did not actually watch their Charges. They averted their eyes, scanning the area around the Charge, relying on superior hearing to alert them, and offering a modicum of visual privacy.

  But did the Charges avert their eyes also? Baynor wondered how many of his Charges had watched him undress, watched his muscles flex as he moved, watched his massive cock and heavy balls as they swung between his thighs.

  He supposed they had every right to, never mind what they were taught. It wasn't really against the rules for a Charge, more a matter of decorum. And the Bodyguard's body belonged to the Charge. So he had no real reason for modesty.

  With his eyes still closed, he heard Burgeonie move, felt the water tumbling under its surface. What he did not expect was warm flesh, wrapping around his huge naked frame.

>   His eyes opened and he nearly jerked out of the water. Burgeonie had nestled into him for comfort, folding her graceful arms around his waist and his neck, nudging her knee between legs, rubbing up against him.

  He tried to shut her out, close his eyes again, clamp down on his instincts. But it was impossible, his blood was boiling, making him sex-starved.

  "Baynor," she said, her voice still high and musical like bells, but strained from her ordeal. "You saved me."

  Ohhh, God.

  Her hips touched his cock and it ripped into readiness, hard as diamond. Her skin kept grazing the sensitive head, sending waves of pleasure through his body.

  Oh no.

  She had to feel his full mast. How could she miss it?

  "Hold me, please, my beautiful Warrior," she said softly. "Please."

  Her tone was desperate, pleading. He could no more deny her than turn the Earth in the opposite direction.

  Baynor wrapped his arms around her tiny frame, and her breasts brushed his nipples, slid across his pecs.

  "Thank you," she whispered hoarsely.

  He lay with her in the heat, his instincts screaming to push his dick into her wet hole, and even with a Warrior's discipline, he barely controlled himself.

  When he felt a delicate hand grip his penis, he tensed up completely, his dick demanding release.

  Ohhhh god...

  He was going to fuck his client. There was no stopping that now.

  You did not tease a Warrior, he would take what he wanted if you pushed him too far.

  It was never rape, far from it, he just relentlessly found ways to get you to submit. He would arouse you in any way possible, with words, with fingers, with his body.

  But if the final answer was no, he would leave, though it was a cruelty of the highest caliber to send a heated warrior away unsatisfied. If you were responsible for his erection, then you were responsible for sating his lust.