Forbidden Fantasies

Forbidden Fantasies
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ISBN:  9781907753213
Author:  Kitt Gerrard
Word Count:  57,607
Format:  eBook

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Without speaking to me, he stows his toolbox and his discarded clothes behind the back of his seat and exchanges them for two lengths of thin rope. Reaching across me, he brings my arms together behind my back and expertly binds my wrists.
   Then, turning to face forward again, he slides his hands under my shoulders so he can lift me up a fraction and drag me over his lap. He moves me until my face is directly over his cock and then, telling me to open my mouth wide, he lowers me all the way down onto it until the tip touches the back of my throat and my nose nestles in his hairy groin...

Shamefully exposing manacles, deviant chastity belts and tormenting punishment pants, unstoppable caning machines and ritual chastisements - all feature in this shockingly arousing collection of real women's corporal punishment and bondage fantasies.

Breathtakingly explicit and wickedly inventive, the erotic encounters imagined by these ladies explore the forbidden world of pain and pleasure, domination and submission. Until now their fantasies were considered by many to be too extreme for general publication, but we believe jewels of erotica such as these should be enjoyed by all...

'...The rough-shaven truck driver leans over and whispers in my ear his terms for delivering me safely home. When I hear what they are, I think I'm going to faint...' Gina, telephonist.

'...The town pillory is locked around my arms and head, then a cheer goes up from the peasants as a huge man steps behind me brandishing a terrifying wooden paddle...' Samantha, schoolteacher.

I don't actually like giving head very much at all, which is perhaps the reason why I find imagining being forced to do it so perversely exciting.
   The start of my fantasy is that I've been away to the beach for the day with my boyfriend and a group of friends. We were driving home towards London late at night, but through a series of bizarre misunderstandings I've been left behind in a remote lay-by and the others have driven off thinking they don't need to worry about me.
   This sets the scene for me being stranded on my own out in the middle of nowhere long after midnight, wearing only a skimpy bikini and with no money or belongings. I'm getting very cold and I realise my only hope of getting back home is to hitchhike. A long time goes by without a vehicle passing, but then thankfully, I see the lights of a huge articulated truck coming along the road, heading in my direction. Desperate to make him stop, I wave my arms around frantically as the powerful headlights pick me out in their glare and I sigh with relief as the monster pulls up beside me with a deafening hiss of airbrakes.
   I wait as the driver jumps down from the cab to find out what I want. When he appears around the front I see he's a muscular guy in his mid-thirties. He has a day's stubble on his square jaw and he's wearing a black T-shirt, denim jeans and heavy suede boots.
   To begin with I'm really grateful to him for stopping to help me, but it soon becomes obvious that he's not the Good Samaritan he first appeared. As I babble out my story, I see his eyes take on a wolfish glint as he realises the vulnerable situation I'm in and the power it gives him over me.
   He lets me know this very clearly by slipping his hands into his front pockets with studied casualness, and then leaning down beside my ear to quietly inform me his exact terms for letting me ride with him back to London.
   He speaks calmly and slowly, but he uses the crudest language, enjoying seeing how his coarse words make my cheeks blush scarlet. The thing he says he wants me to do with him is absolutely obscene, but he tells me I can either agree or risk spending the night right there, out in the open with no way of keeping warm.
   He tells me to make my mind up quickly, but though I've no real choice, I just can't bring myself to say yes to his demands. My only response is to stare down at the ground in resentful silence, though we're both very aware this is tacit acknowledgement that I'll agree to do what he wants if it means I can get home.
   'Now that's settled, you'd better get started with your part of the bargain, hadn't you?' he sneers, pacing round behind me.
   Knowing what he wants, I reluctantly start to undo the ties at the back of my bikini top. Once I've slipped it off my breasts, I slacken the knots at my hips even more unwillingly and tug the skimpy bottoms down and off my legs. By this time he's circled round in front of me again, but when I instinctively try to cover my breasts and sex from his gaze with my hands, he uses an arrogant flick of the fingers to direct me to stand with my arms at my sides. When I let my guards drop away, he stares long and hard at my unsupported breasts and my exposed pussy, and he makes me feel so uncomfortable I start to squirm with embarrassment.
   He holds out a hand for my bikini, and I have to steel myself to part with it. I expect him to stuff it into his pocket to return to me after I've finished my part of the bargain, but I shriek in disbelief when he screws it into a ball and tosses it into the dense undergrowth. Swallowing dryly, I realise there's no going back on our deal now.
   Resigned to my fate, I obey without protest when he instructs me to put my hands on the top of one of the huge tyres and bend forward with my bottom pushed out behind me as far as it will go. Stretching over tautly, I wait while I hear him open up the passenger door and pull a toolbox out from under the seat.
   Knowing exactly what's coming next, I start trembling with trepidation. As I'm expected to do, I resist the overwhelming urge to flinch away when he wedges the fingers of one strong hand into the cleft of my buttocks and spreads them to part my cheeks and expose my bumhole. He holds me wide open like that as he firmly plugs the nozzle of a big grease gun into the tight pucker of my anus, and it's only with the greatest effort that I manage to remain still when he quickly works the gun handle twice to squirt two pumps of the thick lubricant into my rectum.
   The nozzle makes a slurping noise as he extracts it from me, but I have to stay in the humiliating stance as he returns the gun to the toolbox and exchanges it for a thick truncheon he keeps in the truck in case he meets any trouble on the road.
   The black cosh is made of heavy plastic. It has raised rings moulded around the handle to provide a good grip, but it is the other end of the shaft he holds onto as he presents it to my poor bottom.
   A pleading whimper escapes me as I feel him probe the rounded base of the ribbed handle against my anus, but that just seems to spur him on. Smearing the tip with the stray dabs of grease that are smudged on my buttocks, he docks the slippery base into my bumhole until it spreads my tight little opening, then I wait, sick with apprehension, until he commands me to take a deep breath.
   I gulp a lungful of air and hold it in my lungs, heart pounding wildly, but then as the tension gets to me and I start to exhale slowly and fearfully, my head rears up and my controlled sigh turns to a broken moan as he steadily begins to slide the thick rod inside me. Each time he forces one of the raised rings into my anus I judder violently from head to toe, as it ratchets through the protesting circle of muscle.
   I count despairingly as he feeds all six of them inside me, then orders me to straighten up again and climb into the passenger seat. The rings are locking the cosh so firmly in place he's able to let go of it completely, confident it can't slip out of me. I know he's inserted half the length of the cosh into my bottom, though to my surprise I feel no real discomfort, only a disturbing sense of fullness.
   I ache to put my hands back and feel what he's done to me, but he won't allow it. Cruelly, he even forbids me from trying to look, so I'm left to imagine what the rod must look like poking out of me.
   There are three steps built into the wheel arch of the truck cab. The first is only a few paces away from where I am, but it seems a huge distance because every little movement causes the buried end of the truncheon to stir my insides.
   Climbing up the steps is almost impossible to bear and, in the end, he has to manhandle me up onto the black vinyl bench seat. There's no way I can sit with that protrusion between my cheeks, so instead I have to lie across the seats on my front. I bend my feet up in the air when he closes the door, then rest them back against the window behind me. It's an awkward pose to hold, but it's exactly how the lecherous trucker wants me.
   When he climbs back into the cab on his side, I see he's pulled off his jeans and underpants while I was trying to settle, and he's now naked from the waist down apart from his big brown boots. As he slides into his seat, his rigid penis spears up from his lap and pulses only a few inches from my face. It's sprouting from a dense thatch of dark pubic hair, thick and heavy. I can't help seeing that his foreskin is rolled back and his bulbous helmet is shiny and smooth.
   Without speaking to me, he stows his toolbox and his discarded clothes behind the back of his seat and exchanges them for two lengths of thin rope. Reaching across me, he brings my arms together behind my back and expertly binds my wrists.
   Then, turning to face forward again, he slides his hands under my shoulders so he can lift me up a fraction and drag me over his lap. He moves me until my face is directly over his cock and then, telling me to open my mouth wide, he lowers me all the way down onto it until the tip touches the back of my throat and my nose nestles in his hairy groin...

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FORBIDDEN FANTASIES
Friday, 4 February 2011  | 

A fascinating variety of female fantasies written with imagination and wit.....quite a turn-on!


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