A Tiny Trio of Taboo Tales Vol. 01

[Cozy On The Couch]

I sit between my brother and my mother on the couch as the less-than-interesting movie drags on halfway. It's a cold December and even with the heater, we all swear sweats under our blankets. My tank top lets my chest breath while my bra is on vacation. Bored and in a need of a little thrill, I begin touching myself under the blanket. I keep my eyes on the screen, my breathing carefully paced as to not arouse attention. My sweatpants give me plenty of room for both hands to work my secret deeds. It starts playfully at first, caressing my outer mound softly, running my hand through my unkempt pubic hair.

After a few minutes, I'm worked up enough to feel my face flush, the excitement of concealed masturbation throbbing my pulse in my neck. The longer both don't notice the, hornier I become. My slit weeps pre-cum, dragging my middle finger up and down my labia, smearing the vaginal secretions around my lips. My brother frowns at me, suspicious of me, yet none the wiser. Mom eats popcorn, sitting so close she elbows me when going for as bite almost every time.

The close quarters ignorance of my masturbatory efforts excites me more than I feel it should. I plunge my finger inside, almost gasping from the rush of pleasure. I bite my lip, fingering myself, hoping I don't get caught, fantasizing I do. One finger becomes two, two becomes three and I begin to squirm. "You okay?" asks my brother.

"Yeah." I respond in a far too breathy tone. His eyebrows shoot up, still unable to decipher my actions. I pick up speed, making up my mind and dedicated to getting off here, now. No bathroom breaks like usual. Right between my mom and brother. While I get lost in the swirling new reality, my facade slowly crumbles as a few itty-bitty moans escape me. My brother is now in full investigation mode, saying nothing in my peripheral, unable to fathom my commitment to my impending orgasm.

"You're real fidgety over there," says Mom, not taking her eyes off the TV.

"S-Sorry," my toes curling, my cunt spilling more juices, feeling I was going to be discovered at any moment. Vigorously violating myself on family movie night always pays off in the end, committed to the cum. I can smell my own pussy now, the heated fumes from my groin rising from my cover. I imp, wriggling about while I look around to see if I've been busted, which I have. Big brother has a hard on, using his snack bowl to shade his sizable girth, with not much success. Oh damn! Why does that turn me on?

He's actively ignoring me, or at least attempting to. I fantasize about seeing his dick, about him pulling it out and jerking off alongside me shamelessly. I visualize cum erupting from his tip and spilling over his knuckles. My asshole is completely sticky from my cunt leaking profusely. I want to cum. I'm going to cum. I dare myself to reach across the gap between us and jerk him off. God, I'm such a god-forsaken slut! As I find the courage to take the leap, I see my brother covertly rubbing the length of his shaft, wordlessly accompanying me in self-stimulation. Oh Jeez, I'm almost there.

I'm panting now, my audible pleasure more difficult to mask. I take a deep breath and abandon my own penetration, taking the dive into my brother's blanket and grasp his cock. Her jerks slightly at the intrusion, keeping his eyes straight forward as to not give anything away. His dick was so thick my thumb and fingers couldn't touch. My eyes go wide, my mouth goes wider. The sheer electricity of tightly holding his shaft brings me to the cliff. I don't jerk his, I can't. I become consumed in my own orgasm, my face contorting into an expression which could only be described as 'terrifying discovery'. The shock and surprise of grasping his cock wittingly in my hand, my other hand rubbing down my clit has me overcome. I want to tell him I'm cumming, to announce it, to scream it to the world. I'm too close. I don't care if I'm caught. I'm going to cum.

I belt out a prolonged whorish moan."What in the world has gotten into you?" demands Mom. Mom sits forward, ripping my blanket from me and exposing my aggressive fingering and my grip on her son.

"I'm cumming! I'm sorry! I'm cumming so hard, oh FUCK!" My pussy squirts, sprinkling the rug with my despicable juices. I lock eyes with my mother, unable to stop confessing my continuing climax over and over until I frost over in an orgasmic stupor. My brother prematurely ejaculates from my nymphomanic display, plastering his chest and belly, jizz covering my knuckles just how I fantasized.

"What the fuck, you two?" yells Mom. My body convulses, my cunt raw and sensitive, both my hands covered in female and ejaculate respectively. "Wait until your father hears about this. We just had this sofa cleaned."

"If you tell Dad, then I'll tell him you had me eat you out last night." Her eyes smoldered over in a devious leer. "You know you're never supposed to have me to yourself."

"You fucking brat..." She crossed her arms. With a heavy sigh, she rolled her eyes. "Clean this shit up. Now!"

***

[Snoozy]

She was reluctant, she always was. Our dynamic was a tangle of near-misses, squandered opportunity and misunderstandings. I don't know how it started in me or when it started in her but something was dark and dormant: a sleeping dragon, made all the more dangerous by considering it a myth or fantasy. Staying at home after you graduate is not what one does when one wants to join the great wide world. College was supposed to be my destiny, not another nine months living across the hall from your painfully single mother. Yet I, living up to the dumb blonde stereotype with flying colors, did just that.

Only applying to one college, feeling in my gut that any other applications would simply jinx the process, I received my rejection letter like a death sentence. Of course drama ensued: the weeping, the self pity the week-long anti-establishment rhetoric that borderlines on premeditated domestic terrorism. I didn't hate my home life, just that I wasn't ready for more, denied a departure by an invisible hand.

It first happened while I was sleeping, unaware of the action perpetrated in my own bedroom. Legality wasn't an issue, it was her house and I was eighteen now. The issue was morality; the silent justification of one you'd never expect to do what she did. At first I thought it was just harmless fawning, the innocent clinging of a mother in her last days of my residency.

I woke up one night, my mother in my chair by my bedside. I understandably considered the intruder simply a doting mother, watching me as I slept as she's done over the years, to which I've excused. It was a bit unsettling but its not as if I could shun her, or even get mad. The frequency increased as the weeks went on, less disturbing each time until I was used to it. Then suspicion set in, secretly wondering if snooping was being committed, pardoned by her flimsy excuse. So I stayed up. Well I fell asleep, but then I woke, feigning sleep before her scheduled entrance between midnight and 2am.

The huffing, the grumbled moans, the climactic squeak that transpired during each visit before the obligatory kiss upon my sleeping head before leaving. I tried to piece it together, no visuals to confirm even my most wild theories. Then I began to peek.

With squinted eyes, through the darkness, I deduced what she was up to: masturbation. My sweet, church-going mother would now tip-toe her sway into my room a few nights a week to rub one out; always staying quiet as to not wake me as she stared at my sleeping form to get off. What a sleep creep! Now, I'm a pretty girl, former high school cheer squad, photogenic; breasts appropriate yet large for my height. But to warrant this type of attention from my mother was unfathomable. I mean, I may be a dumb nineteen-year-old blonde but I know its not lesbian act if its your mom. It's like, the exception or something, it's gotta be, cause would would that make me? I let her finish, every night, never breaking her fantasy and starting some heavy-handed confrontation that would make her undoubtedly cry. I've been accused of being vein on occasion, but I found enjoyment in the accusation, simply for the attention, not that I was ever starved for it to begin with.

She'd come in, take about ten minutes or so, squeak, kiss my head, then depart. It was harmless, this is, until I became proactive in her habit. As winter descended, that December where we would decide to be closer than family, I cranked up the heater, my devious excuse for not having to wear extra layers. I said goodnight, doubling down on the appreciation for the heating bill I did not have to pay for, then wriggled into bed, mindful to remove my shirt before turning out the light. I was so excited to see if shed take the bait that couldn't fall asleep. She entered at a quarter to One, my chair already positioned for her viewing pleasure. She began and about two minutes in, I rolled over, kicking off my blanket so she could see my bare lithe form. Peeking through my eyelashes, I could see she was thoroughly enjoying herself, more animated in her masturbatory efforts. I held back my smile, pretending to sleep with the best of my abilities until she finished. I could just barely make out the one hand on her mouth, stiffing her moans; the other, violently vibrating under her white sweat pants.

She came quicker than usual, even taking a moment to recoup from what I assume was an extreme orgasm. The leg quakes were a dead give away. She didn't even kiss my head this time, getting up with a slight wobble and exiting as quietly as she came. I sat up, frowning at being denied my forehead kiss but I fell asleep after discovering the most ironic twist.: my petite pussy was wet. Gross, I thought. I got worked up by watching my mom watch me. I'm not a lesbian so it must be something else. An attention whore, sure, but a dyke? So why did I escalate the situation? I thought about talking, confronting, possibly fighting; but why? I wasn't hurt. It was really actually kind of fun. A game to play until I left, flying the coup for bigger and better things.

Her visits became more erratic after that, making it harder to stay up and catch the show or forget to go topless extra mile I went for her. I assumed her conscious was getting the best of her, privately ashamed of her actions, victimless as they were. I found myself disappointed, night after night when she didn't visit. After two weeks I felt downright rejected. How dare she not show up! We had a routine goddamnit. So I did what any dumb blonde would do: I made it worse. I went for the Full Monty - top and bottom - even spruced up my downstairs bonsai tree. I made slight note that now, in the peak of winter, a few days before Christmas, that I don't even need blankets anymore, let alone pajamas. Yeah, I was bad. I hardly took the time to deconstruct my motivations for my behavior, interested more in riding this thrill until the wheels fell off.

I rode into the night will gallant hope. My mother, whom had willingly denied herself her most darkest and basic instincts, decided to throw caution to the wind. I took a nap. I planned. I plotted. I now have a night light as well as a special place in Hell. I'd slipped into deprivation the way she slipped into my room that night. Bottomless and tipsy, wearing only a grey tank top that barely withheld her magnanimous chest. Her legs were wide and I saw her magnificent bush for the first time. She started slow, teasing herself with her sight of my chest alone. The wine made her grunt and breathe heavier than usual, the liquid courage aiding our reunion.

I produced a fake moan, not to scare her off, but enough for me to warrant the shirking of my comforter. I laid there, fully nude, in all my nubile glory, subtly posing in my faux slumber to maximize enjoyment. She was loud as ever, fondling her breast and agitating her cunt with four fingers. She threw her head back a few times, the night light revealing the true face of her rapture. She molested herself for several minutes before I had a devious thought. I groaned, rolling elaborately until I was perpendicular to my original position. I heard a muffled gasp as the underside of my ass and cooch was aimed directly at her.

I laid still until I heard her return to producing wet slosh, fleshy sounds which were easy to deduce where they came from. I softly opened my legs, practically going spread eagle for her, my feet dangling slightly over the edge of my mattress. I made the greatest sacrifice of my life. I gave up watching her so she could have a full view, yet I could hear her better than ever, masterfully defiling herself. I wasn't sure at first, but I could feel a tinge of heat between my legs. I played dead, not asleep, dead. I know I was getting hot and bothered and she was so close I was afraid she'd see how wet I was getting. She was... sniffing me. I... loved it.

"Jesus, forgive me." cumming intensely, letting out a quivering whispered prayer, followed by a brutal orgasmic shift which reduced her to a convulsing slut, dibbling cunt juice all over my floor. I almost broke the act, I sear. She was whining, whimpering, cumming. She tried to get up but knocked over the chair so loudly, I had to fake-wake-up otherwise it would have been weird if not suspicious. I came to while she scrambled towards me, covering me with my blanket in a hurry. "Mom?" I asked in my best disingenuous sleepy tone.

"Everything is ok. Everything is fine." with trembling wine-tainted breath. "Sorry for making a ruckus. Go back to sleep.

"Okay" I say with mild trepidation. I rolled away from her, allowing her to leave without the added shame of revealing her lack of bottoms, much less basting in her own juices. The night was a success. Mom came, hard and her secret is safe with me. Tell me why then I felt incomplete. Once the door was closed my hands shot down between my legs. My lady parts were sopping wet and ready for action. I don't know why I did it then, and right then. A touch became a caress. A caress became pressure. Pressure became penetration. Before I knew it, my hands were teaching my pussy new ways to be joyous. My mother's orgasmic squeaks and muffled moans echoed in my memory. My calves strained with the tightened muscles as my toes curled, mouth wide, no ability to control any sounds erupting from me. OH Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. MOMMY!

With a sinfully quiet "Fuuuuuuck..." I came, eyes rolling. My hips bucked, moaning and writhing in pathetic climactic pleasure just as the woman that made me. Beautiful sleep was found after that, a mischievous smile on my face.

***

[Discipline]

I knocked on the door, gently enough to be ignored, with a quiet hope I would, but there were rules to living in this house and I had broken them.

"Come in." my mistress, her contempt not hidden in her tone. I entered tentatively, confident my punishment would be as severe as it was imminent. I entered wearing my white lace bra and white cotton panties, barefoot, freshly showered and blushing. I shut the door behind me, sealing my fate as well as my escape. I held my hands together behind me, looking at the carpet. Avoiding eye contact that would betray my sincere need of atonement. My mistress sat on the bed, her black dress hung from her body like a showcase mannequin: simply made for her. Her ample chest, larger than mine, matched by her matured figure, curvy as it was experienced. My athletic, youthful form had the features of budding womanhood, my chest and butt making genetic promises in the mirror. My chest and posterior doesn't make me a woman, the law that says when I turned eighteen ten months ago, that makes me one.

Being in the presence of my mistress, bare and awaiting her judgment, I knew I was something slightly short of adulthood. "Did you shower?" knowing I had but nonetheless following our delicate protocol.

"I did." She motioned over to me to join and with a small sigh I obeyed.

"Do you know what this is about?" I did.

"I do."

"Didn't think I'd catch you, did you?" I had honestly not even put a thought to it. I needed it; release. It had almost been two weeks and - "Answer me."

"I wasn't... strong enough. I had a moment of weakness." She reached out to me and I flinched. She grinned at this. She ran her pal, up from my calf, up my outer thigh to my hip, then curved around to my bottom, squeezing my ass. She looked up my my body to my apologetic gaze which she met.

"I've invested a lot in your education, Kitten. I can't have my pupil going rogue and chasing whims." I remained quiet, letting her choose her words, calculating her consideration.

"You're a bad girl, Kitten. Not a very bad girl, but a bad girl nonetheless."

"Yes, Mistress." She hooked a single finger under the band of my panties at the hip. She pulled it down slightly, kissing my skin there, then let the band snap against me, forcing a flinch.

"You understand I have to punish you?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Would you prefer it to be external or internal?" A pregnant silence in the room ensues.

"Whatever your choice is best."

"Is that so?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I want to...um, covey my deepest apologies. My betrayal of your trust must not happen again."

"Well you sound very proper. Its as if my tutelage is actually sinking in."

"I cherish your lessons, Mistress."

With a deep breath, she was visually sexually excited from our banter. Her flush pale skin, her labored breath. "I think a good spanking is the best place to start."

"Yes, should I ned over the bed for you?" She thought for a beat, then patted her knee. I assumed the position, my torso flat across her legs, my ass up and fearfully anticipatory. Her hand glided from my neck, across the rolling landscape of my back, reaching her favorite landmark and gave the site its initial smiting.

CLACK

"Confess your sins, slut!" she shouted, no siblings to be concerned with, no father to save me.

"I was... in your bed, thinking about how long it was since--"

A crack rung out as her open palm spanked me again, hard.

I gathered myself, speechless from the force of the strike, knowing I had to endure. "I... it had been so long since you let me--"

SMACK

My eyes welled up from the shame of being disciplined, the happiness her discipline being enforced, but also the thought of letting my mistress down to the point of being punished corporally. "I wanted release. It was a knot inside. I was so pent up!"

SWAT

"You lacked the faith! When have I ever let you down?"

"I know! I'm sorry, Mistress!" I scream as she assaults my ass repeatedly in quick succession. The pain swirled with the pleasure and shame, forging a distinct cacophony of rapture due to our unique dynamic. I could feel the burn, knowing I deserved everything past, present and future. I apologize at the top of my lungs for masturbating in her bed. I apologize for stuffing her panties from the dirty clothes hamper in my mouth whilst I did so. I explain that I didn't even cum because I was caught, hoping it would lessen my transgression.

In all the commotion I failed to realize how wet I'd become, my vaginal secretions now dripping down my thighs. She notices this, taking a full three-finger sample of my liquid complications and sucked on her fingers. I could feel her deep inhale and subsequent exhale of ecstasy that came with sampling my cunt honey.

"I am my Mistress' property. My mistress controls when and where I cum. I serve my mistress with mind and body. Free from my own want, my Mistress."