Dark Fetishes Vol. 1 : (DARK EROTICA): Taboo Erotica (DARK EROTICA SERIES)

by Lucy Lixx

  Awkwardly, I jumped back and rubbed my arm, unsure of exactly how to thank him for the paint set. I shrugged and opened my mouth in an attempt to speak, but nothing came out. Tension filled the air, something I'd never felt around him before, and I found myself stammering nervously while trying to reach for the kitchen table.

  “You're welcome,” Billy said before I could make any words come out. “I'm glad you like them.”

  Now I was utterly speechless. A kind gesture like that wasn't something I was accustomed to, so it was surprising and lovely whenever it did happen. It wasn't like I was used to being treated poorly because I got plenty of affection and attention from friends. I just wasn't used to him being so kind to me. Initially, our interactions had been amiable and sparse, especially with the wall I put up between myself and him. That same wall was now crumbling beneath the sweet gift that he had placed on top of it, a strange and poetic way to make me come around.

  What game was he playing at?

  “I know I can't be your real dad, but I'd like to at least be a father figure to you. Is that okay, Anna?” he asked, imploring me with his eyes.

  “I think I might like that,” I responded with some hesitancy. “But it might take me some time.”

  “I look forward to building a relationship with you,” said Billy. “And I hope you do, too.”

  The comment had left me feeling rather strange and I retreated back to my room where I picked up the paints to keep exploring. The stroke of the brush was almost like caressing a new lover's body, feeling the curve of their hips beneath my fingers as I tried to embrace every inch of their skin. I moved my hand across the canvas in long strokes like I would move my fingers between a woman's lips to massage her clit, the resulting circles emanating a glorious mixture of color.

  If only every interaction felt this way. I loved being with different people, but something was lacking in these encounters. It wasn't love or desire. I had plenty of desire to last for days and enough love to care about those people, at least in that moment. I could feel that strange emptiness grow in my gut as if an expanding void, perhaps needing to be reflected upon further. I didn't like analyzing my own behavior. It made me feel like something was wrong. But how was I to improve on my pleasure without further investigation?

  Catapulting me from my thoughts was the sound of the front door slamming shut, something I hadn't heard since my mother and my biological father separated. It could have just been my imagination or maybe I was having hallucinations from my drug withdrawals. I shook my head and listened closer. Nothing. It was nothing. Before I could dive back into my painting, I heard some shuffling from behind my door. I looked over at my bedside clock and was met by red letters. 10:05. Had time really gotten away from me that quickly? Mom was probably already at her nursing job and Billy was… Where was Billy? Was that him making all that noise?

  Curious, I stood from my desk and walked over to the door, turning the handle slowly as to not attract attention. I peeked through the crack and saw Billy hauling a large black bag down the hall towards the front of the house. Where was he going? I slipped my feet into my black flats and grabbed my keys and purse from the desk, looking out again to see if he would come back. After a few minutes, I climbed out of my bedroom window and sneaked around the side of the house to the front where I watched Billy get into his car and drive away. When he was mostly out of sight, I jumped into my car and peeled out of the driveway to catch up.

  I knew I wasn't supposed to be driving right now, especially with being grounded, but when had rules ever stopped me? Following Billy wasn't difficult as it was relatively late and the streets weren't crowded with cars. He had made a few lefts and a right before parking in front of a seemingly abandoned strip of buildings with one sign in front of one shop window that read, “OPEN.” I waited for him to get inside the building before jumping out and strolling up to the window. It was too tinted to see inside, but I could feel the vibration of music on the cool glass.

  The door swung open and two bodies clad in leather stumbled out, chuckling and hollering about something indiscernible. I watched them tumble off into the distance before pulling the door and walking inside. The man behind the desk at the front was a gargantuan man wearing only black pants and a number of chains around his chest. I gulped.

  “ID,” he boomed over the rhythmic tunes flowing from the speakers.

  Shaking, I pulled my ID from my purse and handed it over, hoping he wouldn't throw me out upon seeing my age. He handed me the card and stamped my hands, allowing me entrance through the chained gate held up by two poles. Before me was a chaotic dance floor filled with people dressed in all sorts of things. Chains decorated the walls along with zippered masks, and bodies were grinding every which way. I felt embarrassingly under dressed in my shorts and tank top, feeling more naked in my clothes than the people who were actually naked.

  Beyond the dance floor stood an immense cage with a few people scattered about inside wearing collars. It was the strangest display of behavior and didn't come close to the parties I attended regularly. These folks would put my friends to shame as far as wildness and I was somewhat intrigued by their crawling and hooting. The building seemed to stretch on forever, revealing room after room of artistic displays as well as people engaging in the most barbaric behaviors. As I wandered through the different crowds and outfits, a young woman in a corset and taut vinyl tights approached me and stopped me with her crop.

  “Are you lost, sweetie?” she asked with her eyes half mast, appearing to be drunk or in heat. Or maybe both.

  “No, I--”

  “Who do you belong to?” She cut me off before I could come up with an excuse.

  “I was just curious...” I trailed off before I could really begin to explain the adventure I was on.

  “Oh, darling, you look so frightened. I'm not going to hurt you!” She smiled and then looked me up and down. “Unless you want me to.”

  This comment made me shudder with exhilaration, bringing Riley right back to my mind. I could still feel his cock inside me. Instant panty splash. I suppose I did appear incredibly lost because this woman – who was teeming with all manner of sex and beauty – pulled me aside through a door to a back room that had a bed covered in gorgeous satin blankets. She sat me down, her red curls bouncing about her face.

  “You must be new here. I'm Charlotte, but everyone calls me Mistress Lolita.”

  Charlotte held out her hand to me and I shook it, intrigued by the gloves covering her forearms.

  “I'm Anna,” I said weakly. “My dad is Billy. I think he's around here. I followed him from home.”

  “I had no idea you belonged to one of our leather daddies. My apologies for not having listened before.”

  “I don't understand…”

  What was a leather daddy? Did Billy come here often? The confusion on my face must have cued her to reconsider what I had said.

  “Oh,” Charlotte whispered. “Your father is Billy.”

  “Well, he's my step-dad, but… I followed him because I was just wondering where he was going. I had no idea he was into this, or even what this is because...” I shrugged, unsure of what I was even trying to say.

  Charlotte nodded, seeming to understand the curiosity that had kept me walking through the building. It was a recognition of something, like maybe she saw herself in me. She didn't appear to be too much older, but she certainly brimmed with experience and wisdom. I felt intimidated.

  “Did you like what you saw out there?” she asked, rubbing her fingers along my arm.

  I nodded drunkenly, suddenly intoxicated by the gentle touch of her fingers through the fabric of her gloves. Her breasts were practically exploding from the corset and they were inviting me to bite them. Before I could lean over, she placed a gloved finger against my lips.

  She spoke softly through the gentle silence of the room: “We're going to have to do something about your outfit before you explore, miss Anna. Let m
e get you something.”

  Charlotte stood and walked over to the closet where she pulled out a pleather halter and skirt along with some fishnets. She held the pieces up to my body and smiled, shoving them into my arms. After I had changed, she pushed me in front of a mirror and wrapped a masquerade mask around my eyes. The gesture elicited goosebumps to ripple across my arms. My reflection caused me to gasp.

  I looked completely different. Charlotte had transformed me into an absolute vixen, a sexy little freak who was just begging to be touched and used. Her fingers traced circles around my neck and I turned to kiss her as a thanks. Delighted, she accepted my kiss and then patted my bottom, explaining that I had a lot to learn in the next few hours. As she pulled me towards the door and back into the sea of masks, I was overcome with elation. This was what I had been looking for. This would be my next big adventure.

  Chapter Three

  Whips, crops, suede gloves, slappers, gags, detachable parts, full-bodied suits… I had no idea this world existed. Over the years, I'd heard about these special parties involving people who liked pain, but I had never imagined those people to be so utterly normal despite how abnormal their interests were. I couldn't keep up with the equipment. Charlotte was showing me so many things that I became overwhelmed at one point and had to lie on the suede couch. She ordered a small man in a leather mask to bring me some water while fanning my face, loosening the mask from around my eyes to reduce sweating.

  “I'm sorry, girl. I should have started you off nice and easy.” Charlotte said apologetically. “There's so much to discover and I was excited to show you all of it all at once.”

  “It's alright. I think it's all wonderful. I just don't know where to begin!” I replied while waving my hand.

  The little man handed me a tall glass of water and I gratefully accepted it, taking slow sips and holding it to my exposed skin to keep cool. We haven't even started playing with anything and I was already breaking a sweat. I wonder what would happen once I got involved? Charlotte had explained all the procedures of the club – called The Marble by many – and also made a point to explain safety words.

  “Just yell it when you want to stop completely,” Charlotte explained.

  “Couldn't I just say 'no' instead?” I asked pointedly.

  “Sometimes, your gut wants to say 'no' when your body really wants it to continue. It separates role playing from reality. Make sense?” She smoothed my hair behind my ear and smiled as I nodded. “You'll make a fine baby girl, I bet.”

  I wriggled my nose at the sound of the name. I wasn't even sure what that was. I just wanted to explore the rest of the club on my own and maybe locate my step dad who had disappeared from the main area. Charlotte had introduced me to the few people around the couch, but I forgot their names as soon as I left the room. I wasn't trying to be rude. My instincts were telling me to follow my feet until I found what I wanted which was in the opposite direction of the new acquaintances I had made.

  It wasn't until I reached what seemed like the end of the building that I ended up stopping. Before me was a lush red curtain covering a doorway and beyond that was dim light. I pushed the curtain aside carefully and found a tall man hurling a bull whip over the length of the room at a gigantic black cross. The snapping of the leather against the wood made me quiver, my thighs suddenly becoming moist and soaking the fishnets. My eyes drank in his appearance, the short hair spiked menacingly while his features remained stern, yet gentle. His high cheeks bone were perfectly symmetrical and his eyes sparkled bright blue through the colored lighting in the room.

  It was Billy and he was looking at me.

  I nearly swooned at the sight of him cracking the whip again, my eyes blinking away the fear that told me to run. If I ran, would he chase me? My bratty side told me I should test him, but I didn't even know if he'd follow. I couldn't read his intentions like I could at home. This wasn't the same man who gifted me those paints earlier in the day, but someone much darker. While he was the same soft-featured Billy who greeted me every morning, there was something absolutely mischievous in his gaze that made me melt. It was as if he was inviting me to walk over to the cross and position myself up against it with my back exposed to him. It was close to a dare, but more or so a command.

  Calmly, I walked to the cross while holding his gaze. My defiance was met with a crack of the whip and I flinched which seemed to satisfy him. I turned slowly and raised my wrists up to rest them in the loops already lining the arms of the cross. The ropes were surprisingly soft to the touch and I found myself incredibly satisfied with the resistance they provided as I leaned against the cold wood. I waited for the whip to crack at my back, but nothing came. My ears were met with a tickling silence that inspired a twitching paranoia to grow in the back of my mind. The hair at the back of my neck stood on end in anticipation of the leather against my skin. I wanted to know how it felt, to be put under the great spell of pain that was described to me just twenty minutes before this moment.

  Instead of the painful twitch of leather, I watched as two strong hands appeared to tighten the ropes around my wrists. They were large, brazen with experience, and seemed to know exactly how loose to keep them. When he went to tighten the other hand, he spoke very gently in the direction of my ear without turning his head:

  “My safety word is cookie. I expect you to use it when appropriate. I have a few different types of whips and you are welcome to choose any one of them.”

  As he spoke, he fastened the rope tight enough to hold me, but not so tight as to cut off circulation. It was unexpectedly sweet the way he pushed my hair aside and leaned forward to smell my skin, the gesture somewhat loving even in the midst of torture equipment.

  “Call me Daddy and I will call you whatever name suits your personality,” he whispered into my ear. “Do you want to proceed?”

  “Yes, Daddy. I do.” I responded, absolutely intoxicated by the moment.

  I wasn't sure if he knew who I was or if he just didn't care, but calling him by his formal name was erotic. I wanted to keep saying it, to let the syllables to fill my mouth in the same way I'd swallow his precious member. My obedient response to his movements and voice were astonishing. I had never been one to conform to an authority figure, especially not to this man! But he was making me say yes. I could feel it in every inch of my body. I wanted to lend myself over to his power with every fiber of my being and it made me feel sexy.

  When I was fixed properly to the cross, Daddy left my peripheral vision and effectively disappeared. I couldn't hear his footsteps on the floor, nor could I hear him choosing a whip. My flesh flexed in preparation for the hit, wondering exactly how the sting would feel. Would it split my skin? Would I cry or yelp or beg? The anticipation was killing me and I could feel my juices trickling down the inside of my thighs as I waited impatiently for him to take the first strike. Why was he taking so long?

  It wasn't until I inhaled and relaxed my muscles that he finally struck the middle of my back. It was a very light pat, but the strike shocked me enough to gasp and tense up. Daddy placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and told me to relax, to keep breathing. As soon as I relaxed, he struck me a little harder, the leather giving more of a bite than a sting. It felt like a wide strap, perhaps a belt, which was relieving considering how intimidating the whip appeared initially. The strap landed on my skin again with a louder slap that caused me to squeak. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to make noise and I didn't want to offend him. Was this okay?

  The strap met my flesh a few more times before I actually cried out, signaling Daddy to lean close to me while rubbing the raw skin that still stung. He gently caressed my back and whispered sweet words into my ear that he was going to take care of me and that I was doing such a good job.

  “You're being a very good girl. I want to reward you for trying. Would you like that?” he asked, trailing his fingers around my waist and up my stomach to embrace me.

  I nodded into his shoulder, f
eeling the weight of the ropes now anchoring into the flesh of my wrists. My arms were aching from being posed in the same position and my knees started to buckle under me. Daddy caught me with his embrace and held me up for a bit, smoothing my hair back as I rested my head against him. It was the most comfort I had felt in such a long time that it made me want to cry. I sighed heavily in his arms, feeling the weight of my angst slipping off my chest as I rose up high into the sky.

  High. I was high. It was almost exactly the same feeling I got after smoking a joint with my friends except it didn't leave me paranoid. I could feel myself floating above the club and above all of my ridiculous issues that I constantly complained about. It was like the strap freed me of worry, doubt, and misery. I didn't have to focus on anything else except the pain and the pleasure that came as a result. While in my haze, I didn't notice Daddy's fingers slowly smoothing down my stomach to my skirt that he unzipped and discarded of with ease. My bare bottom was pressed against his jeans, his erection hard against my exposed vulva that was dripping with fluid and desire. My face was pressed into the wood as I rocked my hips side to side, egging him to do whatever he wanted with my vulnerable holes that begged to be filled.