21 Taboo Tales

by Robin Pressley

  While Reed goes up to the front counter to pay the bill, I walk outside. The city streets are mostly empty since last call was hours ago. A street sweeper rumbles by, struggling to clean up the mess left by the bar hoppers.

  The city is asleep, but not me. With a spring in my high-heeled step, I go to the Cadillac, and vault over the door, landing with a bounce on the front seat. I’ve been up all night, and the sun will be coming up soon, but I still feel giddy and full of energy. Just thinking about the way Reed is going to use my poor little body when we get home has pushed every thought of sleep from my mind. I wiggle my bum against into the leather seat and get comfy as I wait for my man to come and whisk me back home for even more fun.

  But an all too familiar voice interrupts my dirty thoughts.

  “Well, well, look who it is!” the voice slurs from across the parking lot. “You gonna give me a ride babe?”

  It’s Denny. He’s stumbling down the sidewalk from the bars downtown. I guess after I dropped him off, he just kept partying. He was drunk before, but now he looks absolutely shitfaced. His clothes are grimy, his hair disheveled, and his eyes bloodshot over big puffy bags.

  “Damn,” he says, his eyes falling on the scuffed up fender, “What happened to your car?”

  Unbelievable. He’s so wasted that he doesn’t even remember that he caused that mess only a few hours before.

  As he sidles up beside the Caddy, I can smell the harsh vapors of booze wafting off his body.

  “I’ve already told you more than once, Denny—I’m not interested.” My voice is icy cold. Fuck this asshole.

  His eyes are glassy like he’s struggling to comprehend that I’m not into a total creep like him. Then an ugly grin twists across his face.

  “Aw, come on,” he slurs, grabbing his crotch suggestively. “I’ll give you a ride you’ll never forget, babe.”

  He leans in so close that his booze breath practically singes my eyelashes, and he places a clammy hand on my shoulder, making me cringe in repulsion.

  “Yuck, get away from me, Denny!” I shout

  I don’t know whether it’s his drunken state or just his general creepiness, but Denny isn’t listening. Still lewdly clutching his nuts, he leers at me and tugs my arm.

  “Listen to me you little b—”

  Before he can finish his sentence, a much bigger hand comes out of nowhere, covering the hand that Denny is using to grab his balls. The big hand squeezes hard and lifts Denny off the ground.

  “—itch!” Denny yelps the rest of the word, his voice several octaves higher all of a sudden.

  Reed has come up behind him. With one hand he is lifting Denny by his stringy hair, and the other hand has Denny’s nuts squeezed in a vice-like grip. Denny’s face is red with agony, and tears are already streaming down his cheeks.

  “What’s your name?” Reed asks coldly as Denny’s sneakers kick and flail, inches off the ground.

  Denny struggles to answer, but all that comes out of his mouth is a high-pitched squeaking sound.

  “This is Denny,” I answer for him.

  “The same one you told me about earlier?”

  “The same.”

  Reed’s face clouds with rage. For a second I’m terrified that he’s actually going to murder Denny with his bare hands right here in the parking lot.

  “You listen to me,” Reed hisses, “and listen good. Tonight is your lucky night, punk. Do you know why?”

  Denny shakes his head. His weeping eyes are wide with raw terror. Plus, Reed isn’t letting up on his balls. In fact, I think Denny’s odds of ever siring any children are decreasing by the moment.

  “It’s your lucky night because as much as I want to kill your punk ass, I’m not going to do it in front of the young lady. So I’m going to let you off this time, you little twerp. But if you ever talk to Cherry again—if you ever even look that precious little girl in the eye—I’ll rip your rotten nuts off and force feed them too you, understand?”

  Denny whimpers and nods vigorously.

  “Good.”

  With an easy swing of his muscular arms, Reed tosses Denny into a heap of garbage bags piled by the sidewalk. He’s still lying there groaning and clutching his crotch as we pull away in the Cadillac.

  “Thank you,” I tell Reed once we have driven a few blocks away.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he grumbles. “But that little fucker needs to understand you belong to me now.”

  The sun isn’t up yet, but the sky is starting to lighten and turn golden with dawn. Reed’s big fists are white-knuckling the wheel, and he’s grinding his teeth. Gosh, he really is possessive, isn’t he? And the kinda messed up part is that I find it really hot.

  “Yeah,” I say, scooching close to him on the bench seat and stroking his tense shoulder. “I think you got the point across, Reed.”

  “Put your seatbelt on,” he grunts, glancing down at me briefly.

  I know full well what happens when I disobey my disciplinarian Daddy. He already told me he’s gonna give me another spanking when we get home. But I just can’t help being a little brat with him.

  “But Daddy,” I whine, really stretching the words out. “I’m still hungry.”

  The wind has whipped my hair across my face, and he pets it away.

  “You should have said something back at the diner, baby girl. You know I would get you anything you want.”

  “I know,” I whisper, “But they didn’t have what I want on the menu.”

  “What do you want?” he asks with a quizzical look. In a stern voice he adds, “And put your seatbelt on. I’m not going to tell you again, young lady.”

  “I want a sausage,” I giggle, disobeying him and ducking my head under his muscled arm. “A big, meaty sausage.”

  Reed groans as I bite lightly at the growing bulge of his crotch.

  “Cherry, what did I tell you?” he asks. “You know you shouldn’t distract Daddy while he’s driving.”

  But his voice is becoming less rigid as his cock becomes more so. I unfasten his button and zip down his fly. When I tug at the waistband of his jeans, he even raises his butt off the seat a little to help me.

  “Oh Daddy!” I squeal as his spring-loaded cock leaps out and smacks my cheek. It’s almost like his penis is spanking me for being naughty. But as I wrap my lips around the glistening pink bulb of his head, salty precum leaking from his tip, Reed finally starts to relax and give in to my bratty wishes.

  He clucks his tongue.

  “Cherry, Cherry, Cherry,” he chides as he smooths his right hand down my back, reaches under my hiked up dress, and starts to tickle my sensitive rear hole. “What am I going to do with you?”

  I slurp my mouth off his warm, smooth shaft, and sweep my hair back.

  “You’re just going to have to keep punishing me,” I gasp, strings of saliva connecting my lips to his cock. “You’ll have to be merciless with me until I learn how to be good.”

  I dive back in, sucking him even deeper, twisting and pumping my hand over his slobbery shaft in time to the bobbing of my head.

  “Oh don’t you worry about that,” Reed chuckles wickedly. “You still have a very expensive paint job to pay for, young lady. And seeing as how you don’t have an allowance, I’m just gonna have to take it out of your ass.”

  He punctuates his threat with a hard smack against my bare, upraised tushy, making me squeal around his cock. And as he unloads his hot cream into my mouth, spurt after salty spurt gushing over my tongue and down my thirsty throat, my heart fills with glee as I think of new ways to get on Daddy’s bad side.

  Please Don’t Tell

  Teetering on the stiletto heels of my sexy, thigh-high boots, I carefully descend the curving staircase that leads from the upstairs hall to the spacious foyer. Thankfully, the big crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling is not lit up, so the stairs and foyer are dark. I step lightly to keep my heels from tapping too loudly on the steps.

  It’s slow going. I feel like
I’m walking on freaking stilts, and I have both hands clutched tightly to the elegant wooden bannister to keep myself steady in these ridiculously high heels. More than once, I feel that ticklish bounce in the pit of my stomach as I think I’m going to topple over. That would be bad—not only would the racket alert Cason that I’m sneaking out, but I’d probably have to go to the hospital too.

  I’m kinda starting to think these stupid boots might be more trouble than they’re worth. But they just look so darn cute on me—especially paired with the tight black skirt that just barely covers my tushy, and the matching tube top that leaves my midriff exposed and squeezes my tits together, making my cleavage go bling. My designer handbag and the little black choker around my throat complete the look.

  My outfit is designed to send a clear signal—I’m desperate for some dick. Nineteen years of virginity ends tonight, I’m making absolutely sure of that.

  But I have to admit, I would probably look a lot sexier if I wasn’t wobbling like a newborn baby deer. I would have practiced walking in these stupid boots if I had known it would be this freaking hard. Oh well, I’m planning on spending most of the night on my back anyway.

  Once I get about halfway down the staircase, I stop, lean out over the railing and peek down the hallway that leads to the living room. There is a cool flickering glow cast by the television, and I can hear the muffled voices of whatever show Cason is watching—probably one of those super boring business shows about the stock market. I mean, I get that being a successful stock trader involves a lot of hard work, but seriously, that guy needs to learn how to have a little fun every now and then.

  Anyway, if he’s not gonna let himself have any fun, he could at least let me have a bit.

  Oh well, at least the man of the house is good and distracted at the moment, so he won’t hear me slipping out. It’s ridiculous that I have to be so sneaky like this. I’m not a kid anymore. I’m nineteen and a freshman in college. You’d think I’d have a little bit of freedom. Yeah, well try telling that to the straight-laced jerk sitting in the living room right now.

  Cason is an old family friend. He and my dad go way back. When I moved out of my parents’ place and traveled across the country for college, Cason offered me a place to stay since he lives close to my school.

  It seemed like a great offer at the time. It would help me save some money. Plus, when I saw his palatial mansion for the first time, I knew it would way more comfy that some cramped and noisy dorm room that I’d have to share with God-knows-who. The whole arrangement seemed too good to be true.

  And it turns out that it was.

  To call Cason strict would be the understatement of the century. He never lets me stay out late, and if I ever step out of line, he threatens to tell my parents. What a jerk! And don’t get me started about his stupid dress code. He doesn’t allow me to show any skin at all. It’s so unfair.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was jealous.

  One thing’s for sure. If he ever found out about the tattoo I got a couple of weeks ago, he would shit a brick. He would definitely tell my parents about that, and then I’d really be dead meat. I have to keep that tattoo hidden at all costs.

  I totally blame Cason for the fact that I’m still a virgin after an entire semester of college. Well, that’s gonna change tonight, and there’s nothing that Cason can do about it.

  As I’m still leaning over the bannister of the stairs, my phone suddenly dings in my purse, and I curse under my breath. Some ninja I am—I forgot to turn off the message notification sound on my phone. I hope Cason didn’t hear that, otherwise I’ll be totally busted. But I don’t hear him moving in the living room, so I guess he must be too engrossed in his show.

  Slipping my phone out of my handbag, I check my new message. It’s from my date, Dustin, the lucky boy who’s gonna do the honors of popping my cherry tonight.

  DUSTIN: Hey cutie Im out front ;)

  I feel a flutter in my tummy. Dustin is easily the hottest guy at my college, and an upper classman to boot. All the girls are absolutely ga-ga over him, and he’s also got a reputation as a virgin slayer. When he asked me out last week, I almost passed out from shock. And the news must have traveled fast because I’ve already caught some bitchy, jealous girls giving me the stink eye around campus.

  Whatever. It certainly feels good getting some attention from a popular boy. And him calling me cutie makes me blush a little.

  Okay, if I’m going to be completely honest, though, I’m not really all that into Dustin. I know that’s a crazy thing to say, considering how all the other girls drool over him. But he just isn’t my type. Actually, I’m not even sure what my type is.

  But what I do know is this—nineteen is way too old to still be carrying around my V-card. I’m handing it over to Dustin tonight, and he’s gonna rip it in two. Then I won’t have to worry about it anymore.

  Still standing on the stairs, I turn down the volume on my phone, and I shoot off a quick answer to Dustin.

  ME: Okay b right there! ;)

  I drop my phone back into my purse, and then clutching tightly at the curving bannister once more, I descend the remaining steps, exhaling a sigh of relief that I managed to make it all the way down that staircase without killing myself. Maybe I’m finally starting to get the hang of these stupid boots.

  Then again, maybe not. As I’m striding toward the front door, my heel buckles under me, and I yelp as I feel myself going over. I throw my arms out to try and break my fall, and in the process, I knock right into a tall, skinny mahogany side table with a white and blue porcelain Ming vase perched atop it.

  I gasp as I land right on my scantily clad tushy. At least I didn’t hurt myself. But glancing up, I see the vase teetering, and a moment later it topples over. My hands dart out to catch it, but its smooth, round surface slips through my fingers, and it smashes loudly on the floor.

  Oh shit. I have no idea how much that thing cost, but I’m sure it’s more than the pittance I’ve got saved up in my checking account.

  “Antoinette?”

  Cason’s deep, masculine voice rumbles from the living room, followed by the creak of the leather upholstered couch and the sound of his heavy footsteps drawing near.

  It looks like that vase isn’t the only thing that’s busted.

  An impressively tall, broad-shouldered silhouette appears in the doorway at the end of the hall, backlit by the minty glow of the television. A moment later, there is the click of a light switch, and the bulbs in the big crystal chandelier come on, illuminating the scene of the crime.

  The once elegant vase now lies in broken white and blue shards between my spread legs.

  “Antoinette, are you—”

  A surprised expression overtakes Cason’s chiseled face, which I can now see clearly by the light of the chandelier.

  His rich, dark hair edged with gray is slightly messy as if he’s been running his fingers through it while he thinks, and his Windsor-knotted power tie is loosened around his unbuttoned collar. But other than that, he looks like he could have gotten off work only two minutes ago, even though it is the middle of the night. His custom-tailored suit conforms perfectly to his impressive, broad shoulders that taper down to his trim waist.

  Cason’s intense, dark gaze rakes over the scene of the disaster. Then his eyes suddenly go wide, and his lightly stubbled jaw drops.

  At first I think he’s taking in the mess I made of his expensive vase. But as I follow the trail of his eyes, I suddenly realize where he is actually looking. He is staring directly at my crotch, which is fully exposed by my spread legs and super short skirt. The only thing between his eyes and my little mound is the thin layer of my lacy thong panties.

  Sudden and unbidden, a pulse of desire thumps between my legs. I quickly jerk my knees together to cover the wet warmth that is pooling there.

  Having Cason see my crotch is one thing. But if he saw how wet I’m getting all of a sudden, I think I might just die of embarrassment. It’s
totally inappropriate.

  But you wanna know what else is inappropriate? Though I can’t be one hundred percent certain, I could have sworn I saw something jump in the front of Cason’s dark dress pants.

  Something big.

  Cason’s slack jaw becomes tight, and his face darkens as he regains his composure and strides toward me. He towers over me where I’m sitting on the floor. It briefly occurs to me that he’s got a good view straight down my skimpy top from that angle. But I’m way too nervous to dwell on that thought.

  “Young lady, what do you think you’re wearing?”

  Okay, that’s a bit unexpected. I totally thought he was going to be pissed about the broken vase, which I’m certain cost a fortune. But he seems way more concerned about my outfit. I guess Cason is even stricter and more straight-laced than I thought.

  At least he’s enough of a gentleman to offer me his two massive, powerful hands and help me up.

  “Were you going to leave the house like that, young lady?” he nearly shouts in disbelief. Then his tone becomes accusatory. “Antoinette, you were going to sneak out, weren’t you?”

  “I wasn’t sneaking out,” I say with more than a little indignation in my voice. “I’m nineteen, Cason. I can go out at night if I want to.”

  Cason growls. I mean, he literally growls. A shiver runs up my spine as he circles me, looking over my teensy outfit that shows off way too much skin for his strict tastes.

  “Not dressed like that you’re not,” Cason snaps from beside me. “Just look at that skirt. It barely covers your butt. And do you have any idea what kind of message those boots send? You look like a little streetwalker, Antoinette. Unacceptable.”

  My face flushes with a combination of embarrassment and anger.

  “Well I think I look cute,” I mutter. “Besides, it’s not like you’re my daddy.”

  Cason gives a dangerous chuckle as he slowly strolls around behind me.

  “Well as long as you’re staying under my roof, you’re going to obey my rules. So I guess that means I am your daddy for the time being. Anyway, I’m sure your parents would be none too happy if I told them about this.”