Daddy's THICK TABOO collection (20 books from Horny House Series)

by Adrian Amos

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  Copyright 2017 Adrian Amos

  Kindle Edition

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  Daddy Punishes Me Hard

  Daddy, Don't I Look Just Like Her?

  Daddy Didn't Raise No Slut!

  Daddy Finds Me Tied Up

  Gift-wrapped for Daddy Santa

  Daddy Takes Me on the Beach

  Daddy Sells Me on the Sand

  Daddy Makes Me His Midnight Snack

  Daddy Becomes My Master

  Daddy Defends My Honor

  Daddy Licks My Lollipop

  Daddy Bends Me Over

  Daddy Works a Skilled Trade

  Daddy Pays for College Experiments

  Daddy Gushes Over My Uniform

  Daddy Snuggles Me Hot

  Daddy Humiliates Me in Front of Everyone

  Daddy Takes Advantage While I'm Stuck!

  Daddy Knows How to Play Gentle

  Daddy Consummates Our Marriage

  Part of the “Horny House” Series

  By Adrian Amos

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  Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

  Table of Contents

  Daddy Punishes Me Hard

  Daddy, Don't I Look Just Like Her?

  Daddy Didn't Raise No Slut!

  Daddy Finds Me Tied Up

  Gift-wrapped for Daddy Santa

  Daddy Takes Me on the Beach

  Daddy Sells Me on the Sand

  Daddy Makes Me His Midnight Snack

  Daddy Becomes My Master

  Daddy Defends My Honor

  Daddy Licks My Lollipop

  Daddy Bends Me Over

  Daddy Works a Skilled Trade

  Daddy Pays for College Experiments

  Daddy Gushes Over My Uniform

  Daddy Snuggles Me Hot

  Daddy Humiliates Me in Front of Everyone

  Daddy Takes Advantage While I'm Stuck!

  Daddy Knows How to Play Gentle

  Daddy Consummates Our Marriage

  Daddy Punishes Me Hard

  My bindings are so restrictive, the room so confined and dark, you'd think I'd feel at least a smidge of claustrophobia, or that I'd feel the fear of being in an unknown situation with unknown consequences.

  But all I can focus on is the wet spot between my thighs as I kneel close to the ground in my stepfather's closet. My butt sits on my feet, but I can still shift my legs. I've been slowly grinding my pussy, rubbing my folds between my antsy thighs for the past hour in his closet.

  I mean, I notice everything around me, not just the wetness, but I have a feeling that all of it just contributes to my building arousal.

  There's the darkness, this foreboding factor that constantly reminds me of what's to come, punctuated by the light coming from under the folding door. I can even see daddy's movement outside on occasion, his shadow crossing the beam, sending a shiver down my spine as I anticipate his opening the door.

  There's the smell of daddy's cologne, an aroma of musky dominance, of daddy's temper and controlling hand.

  There's the rope over my wrists, tying them together behind my back, wrapping snugly and comfortably. It's like an embrace holding me still but not harming me. It's weird to think, but it makes me feel protected and safe.

  There's the fact that I'm still in my blue satin tank top and panties, having been dragged out of bed early in the morning, woken by daddy's fury. I feel especially vulnerable in my clothes, my bare skin pressing against the soft carpet on the floor as I rest.

  For an hour. The anticipation is killing me, driving my body to beg for release, from my punishment and all this sexual frustration building up.

  It's never been like this; then again, daddy's never gone this far in punishing me before.

  I've always been a headstrong girl, rebellious at every phase in my life, getting into trouble in school and recently with the police.

  It's crazy I'm old enough to smoke but not to drink! It's kind of fucked up really. I try to keep it on the down low with my friends, but it's hard to stop a bunch of girls from getting a little wild. I don't get why everyone's gotta jump down my throat about partying and living the good life.

  Every time my mother goes out on her lengthy 'business' trips, she puts my stepfather in charge, telling him he's free to take the steps necessary to rein me in.

  I think my mom is glad she gets to escape every so often, taking her business trips as if they were vacations from me. I guess that causes me to rebel all the harder, knowing I'm not really wanted by her. Truth be honest, I guess I make it harder on my stepdad more than I have to.

  He's always been stern and demanding, but his punishments have been simple and swift. He started out making me do chores around the house; he put restrictions on when I can go out; he's taken away my phone and laptop every so often. But those are just things and words, and they didn't do much to stop me.

  Then he started taking matters into his own hands, literally. When he caught me drinking for the first time after forbidding it, he pulled me by the arm, sat down on his bed, draped me over his knee, and spanked me with his hand.

  Honest to God! He spanked me! Later that same day, I taunted him for being such a crude pig, hitting a girl like that, and he responded by pulling my pants down right then and there in the kitchen and bare ass spanking me. Full-on flesh to flesh.

  Something inside me after that lit up. The moment his hand struck me, I felt this chill in my body, this shock of joy and pain. I couldn't put my finger on it, but being in such a submissive position made me crave his touch. Something I never gave a shit about before that.

  I itched for it like a spanking was the only thing that could scratch it.

  So, what do you think happens when a bratty kid wants something more than anything?

  I started provoking him. First, it was like once or twice every so often when mom would leave. Then it started becoming every day she was gone.

  But he only spanked me rarely. He still tried all the boring shit like chores and restrictions on what I was allowed to do with my time.

  I started provoking him harder. I wasn't content on doing shitty things: I was shitty toward him, disrespecting him whenever I could, at home or in public. His anger would boil up then, and he'd have no choice but to discipline me as soon as he could.

  The spankings started in earnest. He beat my ass on a number of occasions, hitting me with all the anger he could muster.

  And I loved every second of it: the madder he was, the better it felt.

  This time, though, plunked down in his closet in my underwear, my arms tied together, forced to kneel on the soft but eventually abrasive carpet, is something new altogether.

  How did I finally drive him crazy enough to do it?

  Drinking and taunting.

  I came home late last night plastered, having driven home drunk and out of my mind. It's a little foggy, but an hour in the closet is clearing things up for me and quickly wiping me from my inebriated state.

  I remember that he was sleeping, and I stormed into the room, waking him up. Drunk, I started taunting him, saying something along the lines of him being a lousy father, that no self-respecting girl could ever take him seriously. I said that just the fact that I was ballsy enough to challenge him in the middle of the night, we
aving from alcohol, showed how little I feared him.

  I laid into him mercilessly.

  Little did he know, I was aching for his hand on my ass, my pussy drenched in all the imaginings of him I'd been conjuring as I was drinking with my friends. The only reason I didn't pass out at my friend's house is that was so horny I raced home in order to confront my stepfather.

  He acted just as I expected, yanking my panties down and spanking me right there.

  The reason I'm in the closet? Because my plan went a little too well.

  After maybe a good smack or two, I started to let out satisfied moans, chanting “Yeah, daddy” as he doled out his discipline. It didn't take him long to realize that I was getting incredibly turned on by it. He pushed me off his knees and sent me to my room.

  It was the first time I'd given any reason to suspect my intentions, having played as coy as possible. He really thought I was just being an unruly bitch that needed to be punished.

  But I had shown my hand in a night of drunken lust. I went to bed absolutely devastated, sure I had fucked up everything, destroying future punishments to vent my sexual desires forever.

  I was definitely surprised when daddy returned the storm I'd brought to his room last night by storming into mine this morning. He wrapped the rope around my arms against my wishes, shoving me into the closet, demanding I stay on my knees and think about what I'd done to deserve all this.

  I thought I'd ruined everything, only to find that I was about to be treated to his harshest punishment yet.

  I don't know if he intended to punish me for getting turned on by his spankings by trapping me in the closet, but it's having the opposite effect. I thought I just wanted his hand on my ass, but all this... restriction? It's turning me on just as much, the anticipation and nervous energy cycling through me like a lustful demon, consuming whatever decency and innocence I once thought I had.

  I'm a freak on the inside, I just realize.

  A freak who wants to be punished.

  Daddy's shadow passes by the light under the door, repeating his movements every few seconds. He must be pacing. He's probably thinking about what he's going to do to me.

  How do you punish a girl who gets turned on by your punishments?

  I wouldn't want to be in his predicament, that's for sure. I can't think of what he could do to get me to stop being such a dirty slut.

  But it might just be that he isn't interested in stopping me at all.

  The folding door swings open, letting a burst of bedroom light flood into my vision, blinding me. I had no idea that being in the closet like that for so long would actually cause my eyes to flinch in pain. I spend a few moments regaining my sight, blinking away the sharp stabs of incandescence.

  My stepdad waits for me to see him clearly, to see the menace in his eyes and posture. His dark stubble and hulking body are even more intimidating from my lower position looking up at him. His arms crossed, his biceps tense and bulging, his tall frame a stretch for my neck, I feel myself shrink every so slightly.

  “I had no idea I spent the last few years raising a girl like you. I'm shocked,” he says, his voice giving away a hint of anger and disappointment.

  I lower my eyes to the floor as a rush of shame overcomes me. I just realized I'm a freak. It just happened. I hadn't even had time to judge it yet. It's fact, that's all. But my stepdad's judgment makes it all real, out loud, for the whole world to know. In this case, the humiliation doesn't feel that good.

  “I'm sorry, daddy,” I say, not wanting to drag him any further into my sick perversion.

  “You like that word, don't you? You couldn't stop from saying it last night as I spanked you.”

  This time I blush. The goosebumps come to life and run up my body. I can't respond, my words difficult, but mainly because I don't want daddy to hear my voice crack or see the flush of excitement in my face and body.

  “Is that what you want from me? To be spanked? Is that why you've been such a horrible girl?”

  I nod. I feel a bit of release now that I can admit it. I did feel shitty a lot of the time that in order to delve into my desires, I had to be a nuisance and plague my stepfather's life. I wasn't just acting out: I was driving him mad.

  “I never really wanted to hurt you,” I say, looking up at him. I shake my head, “I didn't mean any of the mean crap I said. I was just...” I swallow. The thought of saying my desires is something that causes my throat to seize up.

  “You what?” he asks, bending down toward me. The smell of his closet comes spilling back into me as his face comes close to mine. “What were you doing?”

  The fear in my eyes is probably readily visible as I can feel my eyelids shaking. How can I possibly admit it.

  “I was... was...” I try, but the words are impossible to form.

  Daddy smiles, “You were being a slut, weren't you?”

  My face flames up as I hold my breath. Daddy! That's so rude! Ugh, it hurts so much to see his eyes so close to mine, piercing into my hidden urges, revealing my darkest thoughts.

  “Yes, yes, I was being a slut,” I admit, wanting to punish myself for being so nasty to him. “I'm sorry. I'm a freak.”

  He laughs, standing up again. “I'd rather you be a freak than the horrible woman I thought you were becoming. I'm relieved, actually.”

  I look up at him, wonderment crashing into me. “Really?”

  He nods. “Horrible people are a dime a dozen. Shitty to deal with, living petty little lives where they'll never amount to anything. I feared that for you more than anything. I want you to be happy.”

  I smile, the sudden turn in daddy's demeanor a welcoming respite from the criticizing of my filthy behavior.

  “Besides, freaks can be trained.”

  I furrow my brow, instantly confused. “Trained?”

  Daddy's hands fall to the waistband of his jeans. He pulls the strap from his belt, unlatching it and freeing it. He unbuttons his pants, letting them slide down his legs.

  “Daddy? What are you—“

  His thumbs hook his boxers, dropping them after his pants.

  My eyes go wide.

  Daddy's cock is free from his clothes, thick and flaccid, hanging loosely as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

  I gasp as daddy takes his cock in his hand, giving it a few light strokes as he talks. “My little girl's a freak? So what. She gets turned on by daddy punishing her?” He shrugs.

  His cock starts to grow in his grip, expanding as his hand continues to caress it.

  “Then daddy's going to punish her until she gets her fill.”

  My mouth sits ajar, shock causing my jaw to hang open.

  “Yeah, there you go babycakes. Open that mouth for daddy and come get your punishment.”

  Daddy steps in close to me, his cock mere inches from my mouth. I look down at it, the head bobbing as daddy flexes, taunting me, kind of like when I taunted daddy every day for so long.

  And just like the urge daddy probably felt to swat my bottom in an attempt to correct my behavior, I feel an urge to take his fat cock in my mouth.

  Almost unconsciously, I lean forward, my mouth opening slowly as I ready myself for him.

  But just as I get close enough to feel his heat against my face, daddy takes a step back from me, lengthening the distance between us.

  I look up at him, and he says, “Come and get it. It's not going to be that easy. I saw how hard you worked for those spankings; lets see how hard you work to taste this dick.”

  I swallow, the craving to taste him spurred on by the building wetness between my legs. My soaking pussy has been heating up since late last night, and there's not a cell in my body that can resist the intense temptation inside me.

  I stand taller on my knees. The first swing of my knees forward is painful: having been stationary for an hour, my muscles cry out as I engage them mindlessly. But the strain my knees had digging into the carpet is immediately relieved at the same time, giving me the fortitude to pursu
e my retreating daddy.

  Each time I waddle closer to him, he lets me get within an inch of his semi-erect cock before withdrawing further back. I want to bring my hands up and stop him, pull him in, suck him as my mouth waters, but my hands barely move against the rope.

  The inability to will my hands to tackle daddy is disheartening but wholly erotic. I continue to pull against the binding, allowing myself to experience the constraint contain my desire indefinitely. It forces my knees to move faster, catching up to daddy as he falls to sit on the bed. Upon his butt landing on the mattress, I lean my head forward, pushing his cock down my throat.

  I'm so hungry for him that I don't even wait for him to get situated. He's still adjusting himself on the bed as I begin to suck his cock, clamping my lips around him as I pull up on his foreskin.

  It's like I'm stretching daddy out with my mouth, pulling up on his cock, feeling it get harder with each tug of my mouth. It takes only a dozen tugs and half a dozen groans from daddy before his dick comes to full attention, his thickness transferring well to his hardened rod, spreading my mouth open as I make room for daddy.

  I stick my tongue out as I bounce my head up and down his cock, licking his shaft as I take him in. I pull my arms against the restraints, the tug of rope making my stomach quiver. I stick my ass out in reply, as if propositioning someone behind me to fuck me mercilessly.

  Daddy sees that and leans forward to smack my ass. The sting is like heaven, enhanced by the rod filling my mouth. I moan against his cock, the vibration of my lips making daddy squirm.

  “Ooooo, I don't want to come yet,” he says, “I haven't even punished you yet.”

  I shudder, excitement welling inside me. “Punish?”

  He stands, his cock escaping the reach of my lust.

  He circles around me, putting his hands under my butt. His warmth on my fleshy ass reminds me of his spankings and the excitement inside me feels like it's about to explode in gleeful hysteria.

  “Stand” is all he says.

  I pick one knee up, my lack of balance from my lack of arms making it difficult to gain my balance. When I push up, my weak legs nearly give way, and I would have fallen over if not for daddy's support under my butt helping me to my feet.