TABOO TALES(erotica)

“Give me the phone,” he said, reaching out his hand. “Darielle, she’s getting special training tomorrow. And I’m grounding her tonight because she’s been misbehaving.” Darielle thought his choice of words was odd but didn’t comment. “For example, she’s sitting here right now in filthy sleepwear. Without even a robe. At least she knows that she deserves to be corrected. But thanks for calling. I’m sure we’ll both be seeing you soon.” He hung up.

“What happens to children who misbehave?” he asked.Têxt © NôvelDrama.Org.

“They’re. . . grounded in their room?” she guessed, her head hanging in shame.

“Do you deserve to be disciplined for your misbehavior?”

“Yyes, absolutely.”

“Punished how?”

“Umm. . . I guess by being grounded?”

“Hah! I don’t think so. Being grounded in your room means you have the radio, TV, books and magazines, plus your girlfriends to call. Sounds more like a vacation to me. How else are children disciplined?”

“They’re. . . spanked,” she whispered.

“As you were on graduation night, although it hasn’t made you any more obedient. Besides, it’s children who get spanked. Adults get something else, something more severe.”

She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes unfocused, as if in a trance. “Adults get . . . they get a thrashing,” she whispered, her whole body tingling. It was not a question. Finally, she would receive the punishment she’d deserved for all these years. And who better to administer her punishment than the son who had been affected by her bad parenting?

“A whipping, that’s correct. And I expect my dinner prepared on time tonight.” She nodded. “Since I’ve been working part-time for so long, and since I’m the man of the house, I’m contributing new clothes for you. Before you leave the house, write all your sizes and measurements on this note. And for God’s sake take a shower and clean yourself up. See you at dinner.” He left the kitchen, headed for the den.

She jotted down her sizes and was about to leave when she remembered that Matthew wrote “all your sizes.” So she included her underwear sizes, showered and dressed. She left to go food shopping and do errands, which she did like an automaton, her mind preoccupied with her answer to Matt: Adults who misbehave get a whipping. Would he whip her ass? Her thighs as well? She tried to ignore the idea of him actually going so far as to whip her breasts, but kept visualizing the scene in all its degrading details. . . .

Upon returning home a few hours later, Janice felt flustered, her pulse accelerated. Yet Matthew was not in the house, a relief. Another note was on the counter. “New rules: No more pants or shorts. Only dresses, skirts and blouses. I’ve cleaned out your closet and bureau. You’ll find the clothes in cartons in the guest room. New clothes on your bed. There’s one of each prototypes for future purchases.”

Janice was taken aback, but knew Matthew had excellent taste in clothes. And it had been a few years since she’d bought anything. Practically running, she went straight to the guest room, and couldn’t help seeing that Matthew was correct: the items he’d discarded for donation were old, outdated, or unflattering. She realized she was wearing slacks and a shapeless, heavy blouse, so she removed them, placed them with the other discards, and changed into fairly new shorts and a halter-top.

New clothes were draped on the bed in her room. There was a dress, skirt, blouse, and a full set of underwear, including a waist cincher. Except for the white blouse, everything was black, except the lingerie, which was smoky gray, like her panties. She tried on the lingerie, surprised that the transparent bikini panties felt tight, pressing in on her labia. Like the panties, the shelf bra was also the thinnest of materials, and a size too small. Her breasts felt constricted and bulged lewdly, completely exposed. Another bra was a full cup, but the material was so gauzy that her big aureole and huge nipples looked almost more exposed, more slut-like, then when she wore the shelf bra.

She left the suspenders and stockings for later. The long dress buttoned up the front. The skirt was short and tight, as was the blouse, only slightly more opaque than the underwear. She was dismayed to see her large aureole and nipples clearly visible beneath the ultra-sheer material. She could never wear this in public, only inside the house. Not sure if she should wear the new items without his permission, she removed it all and wore her halter and shorts.

When Matthew arrived home a few minutes later, she thanked him formally for the beautiful purchases but dared not criticize him for the tight fit.

He stared at her, dismayed. “I just spent all that money on new clothing and look at you. There’s no excuse for wearing shorts. For all I know, you’re wearing them on purpose, to test me, to provoke me and see if I’m serious. I wouldn’t put it past you. Sit down here!” he ordered, pointing at the chair where she’d sat when he’d abused her with the hair dryer.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said, chagrined. But she could see it was too late. She hoisted herself into the chair. He pulled a black eye mask from a pocket and fastened it tightly on her. “Are you going to whip me now?” she asked in a throaty voice.

He lightly slapped her face. “I’ll whip you when I’m ready. Take off that halter and shorts,” he said before walking out of the room to gather his items. When he returned, she sat in her new, see-through bra and panties, arms behind her trailing down the back of the chair, breathing heavily. He stopped in mid-stride, taken with how debauched she looked in her new bra and panties. “Mother, you look incredibly hot.” He collected the remainder of his items in the kitchen.

“Thank you, Matthew.” He set his items on the counter next to her. She felt dizzy looking at all the strange paraphernalia. It included three metal funnels from the auto parts store, scissors, massage oil, two black leather shoelaces, a long, wilted carrot, an injector for basting food such as turkey, and a heating coil, used to boil water in a mug for tea. He tied a cord onto the coil and plugged it in to heat up. Matt bound her wrists to the rear of the chair back as he’d done when using the blow dryer on her. He pulled the tips of the new bra off her nipples and cut holes in them, exposing the nipples and aureole. She looked and felt like a true slut now. He harshly milked her nipples until they enlarged and extended and tied the shoelaces onto them. He squeezed the bottle of massage oil and roughly slapped the oil onto her meaty breasts on top of the bra. Greased up, she looked even more wanton. He picked up one of the two funnels and threaded a shoelace through the small opening. He positioned it over her slippery breast, and pushed. She whimpered.

Slightly too small for her mound, the funnel wouldn’t fit over her globe. He removed it, squirted more oil onto the breast and forced the funnel again. This time the bulging breast was forced into the metal cone. She squirmed in pain. He oiled the other breast liberally, threaded the shoelace threw the funnel’s narrow tip, and screwed it on as she groaned again. The third funnel was longer and narrower. Using the scissors to slice a slit in her panties, he screwed the funnel as far up her damp cunt as possible. She gasped. He immersed his large finger in the massage oil and plunged the digit into her nether ring. “Mmmmmm,” she responded until he withdrew the finger. He dipped the old, soft six-inch carrot into the oil and, inch by inch, pushed it up her ass. “Uhhhhh,” she said. He stood back, admiring how she looked like a BDSM model, licking her lips in excitement. For the first time with him, she had dildos in both holes at the same time. The black laces snaking through the funnel openings and dangling were a particularly lewd detail. On second thought, he mused, she looked like a robotic sex slave with metal tits.

From the refrigerator, he removed a container filled with his seed, which he’d been adding to daily for the week she’d been away. He heated it in the microwave. Janice squirmed impatiently as the scent of hot cum filled the kitchen. Matt removed the hot container from the microwave, inserted the injector and filled it. He looped the extra cord on the heating coil around her neck and adjusted the long metal coil until it touched both of the funnels. As the funnels began to warm, he climbed onto the rungs of the stool and positioned his cock in front of her face. “Ohhhhh,” she moaned as she felt her oiled, encased breasts getting hot. She leaned forward and began noisily licking his shaft. He placed the tip of the injector inside one of the funnel openings, forced the swollen nipple back inside and squeezed hard. A stream of heated cum blasted out of the injector and drenched her breast. She released his cock and screamed. The temperature of the funnels was now almost as hot as the tea clamps that he’d forced onto her breasts and labia. She was sweating heavily. Matt refilled the injector and pulled her head down to his groin.

She again took his cock into her mouth, teasingly swirling her tongue around the head. Matt positioned the injector at the entrance to the second funnel and fired. She screamed even louder. He tugged hard on the shoelaces, forcing her engorged nipple back through the small hole in the hot funnel as she choked in anguish. He repeated the action on her other nipple, squeezing the big teat through the narrow opening. She yelled in pain. God, did she look amazing, with her cum-covered, shoelace-roped nipples poking obscenely through the funnels, her big mouth spread wide over his cockhead.