Torment: Extreme Taboo BDSM Erotica E-Book

Missy Harper

• Herausgeber: Taboo Pulp Press
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

This book is hot. A trashy, sleazy, *full-length* (100+ Pages) post-censorship erotic novel. But, if you really want, here's the briefest of excerpts:

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She was thrown off guard by her discovery, so that she had no time to steel herself when he plunged into her cunt up to his hairy balls. The rough hair that covered the last part of the shaft to enter her was like steel wool as it ground against the raw edges of her ruptured hymen, and she shrieked briefly before she recovered her false courage.

"God! It's sweet in there!" Neil marveled. "That juicy cunt clings to my cock like it was sucking me off!" He groaned and held himself still inside her. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and he licked his lips repeatedly for several seconds. When he regained his control, he started to pump his ass slowly, moving back and forth in the wet clutching of her tight sheath.

"I don't... believe it!" Abby gasped, unable to accept the fact that she was accommodating such a large thing, even as she felt it stroke the walls of her cunt time after time. Neil misinterpreted her, thinking that she was rejecting the reality of her captivity and rape. He chuckled and tried to kiss her on the lips, but she turned her head aside toward the door.

"I'll make a believer out of you before long," he promised, fucking into her virgin passage with renewed vigor.

Abby was starting to feel new stirrings within her guts, and she tried to deny them. But the discomfort of her deflowering had begun to wane as the pleasure of being fucked increased. She wanted to fight against enjoying it, but once more her legs betrayed her, wrapping themselves around the body of her rapist.

Leseprobe

Torment

Missy Harper

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

But everything that was not a part of the structure itself gave an entirely different flavor to the cottage. Crude, massive chairs and tables imparted the atmosphere of a hunter's cabin. Heavy ashtrays were placed near every chair, and some of them contained the ashes and butts of consumed cigarettes.

Drab throwrugs in browns and grays broke up the expanse of the rich hardwood flooring. The one below the raised hearth was littered with bits of bark and wood. A half-burned log lay on the modern, mass-produced grate, and there were no and-irons in sight. It soiled the appearance of the Tirolean fireplace for Abby.

While she looked around her, deciding that there was little doubt about its being a bachelor's cabin, Neil slammed home the heavy bolt on the front door. Again she was startled, and she gasped loudly, turning to look at the hardware that had made such a heavy thud. The bolt was of half-inch steel, set in rugged keepers of thick wrought iron.

"Bear-proof," he explained, grinning at her until the worried frown smoothed away from her eyes. "Come on. I want you to see everything." He nodded toward the carved archway that led from the living room into the rest of the cottage. She took a step forward, not knowing whether to feel foolish about her apprehensions or to be on guard against any sudden pass by her host.

Neil again took her arm and escorted her through the archway into a small but well-equipped kitchen. A few soiled dishes lay on the counter top and others filled one side of the double sink. On the floor near a sizable refrigerator were two huge plastic dishes of the sort sold for feeding pets.

He kept her moving so swiftly she had no time to see more of the kitchen. She was ushered through an open doorway into a small bedroom. Like what she had seen before, it was painted and papered in candy colors. And again the decor was modified by masculine furnishings.

The headboard-less double bed was in slight disarray, but Abby could see that the spread matched the coarseness of the functional but unlovely drapes. The rest of the room was just about what she might have expected, including the odd garments strewn on a chair and the foot of the bed.

"You wouldn't change your mind and spend the night here?" Neil asked negatively. The suddenness of his approach caught her by surprise, despite her earlier uneasiness. She searched for the right response, wanting to dampen his libido without being impolite. It would not pay to antagonize him, whether he was really her benefactor or a potential danger.

Should 1 fluff it off casually, just as he propositioned me? Or did he think I might have become infatuated with his rugged good looks enough that he hoped for a serious affair? He hasn't shown too much evidence of a sense of humor, so that rules out a smart-ass reply or too much of a smile whatever I say.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked while she desperately sought for the right words. Inadvertently, he supplied her with a possible out, just by his choice of phrase.

Abby visualized, as she had since the first time she heard the foolish question, a cat running away with her tongue held captive in its mouth. And it brought an inevitable companion recollection from her precociously early puberty.

She was barely eleven when Woody Katz cornered her at the Sixth Grade Picnic and talked her into some heavy petting. When he had fumbled around her blossoming cunt through the intervening cotton of her panties, she had become so excited that she spread her legs for him and let him probe her mysterious femaleness with his nervous fingers. When her first menstrual blood oozed out to meet his exploring hand, both of them had been horrified. Woody jumped up and ran out of the bushes, leaving her there alone and frightened.

Conrad Boughton, eighteen-year-old dunce and master of the uncouth and obscene, had spotted Woody's flight and peered into the leafy bower at Abby's shame. He saw the blood on her panties and thighs and guffawed loudly.

"Katz get your cherry, Abby?" he asked. His raucous laughter followed her as she ran from the spot. She kept seeing Woody Katz running away with her "cherry" held triumphantly in his fingers. All the way to the creek, where she bathed, then used her handkerchief to stop her flow, she was frightened unbelievably.

Even after her mother supplied belatedly the sexual knowledge that explained everything, Abby continued to retain the ridiculous image of her symbolic "cherry" being carried off like a prize. It took her years to get over the effects of that day, and she never let anyone get close to her pussy, even in the hottest petting sessions of her senior year and the few hot dates of her two years as a secretary.

"You wouldn't want to intimidate a virgin out of her cherry?" Abby managed to say, answering his negative question with one just as negative. Peering from the corners of her lowered eyes, she saw the change of expression on his face. But she could not decide what it meant.

His eyes narrowed almost to slits and tiny wrinkles formed at their corners. The grin that had accompanied his last question entirely disappeared. There was a recurring attempt to revive it at one corner of his mouth, Abby thought. Or was it a tic of some sort?

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the inscrutable expression left Neil's face. He peered at her with wide eyes and smiled broadly.

"Just for the record," he said softly, "I want you to note that it was you who brought sex into the conversation. I only invited you to be my house guest. But you haven't seen everything yet. Come on."

She followed him as he led her out of the bedroom, through the kitchen, and into the living room. He opened what she earlier had taken to be a closet door, turned on a light switch, and led the way down a flight of stairs into another "living room" which was equipped with a bar, billiard table, bookshelves, and several big chairs, as well as a second fireplace.

He walked slowly through the room, giving her a chance to get a quick look at it, then entered a short hall opening on the right to a large bathroom and on the left to a sizable guest bedroom.

"You could have slept here," he told her with a sad smile. His steps led to the end of the hall where she saw two doors. He put his hand on the knob of one, hesitated, then said simply, "Just storage space." Then he opened the other door, which seemed to be of heavier construction, much like the main door to the cottage.

"I told you that my cottage door led into a castle," he reminded her. "I suppose you're rather disappointed so far."

As Abby wondered what to say to this, Neil pushed the huge door outward on groaning hinges and flipped a switch on the wall beyond. He reached back and took her arm, pulling her forward. She found herself standing in what seemed like an endless tunnel of concrete block. Ahead, she could see dim lights in the ceiling every dozen yards or so, but she could not estimate how many of them there were before the solid clanging sound of the closing door made her turn to face her host. He was laughing quietly as he studied the startled look on her face.

"Start walking, Abby, and I'll tell you about it as we go; it will make the long trip seem shorter." She let him escort her at a natural pace and as she waited for him to start explaining she noticed that there was occasional debris on the floor of the tunnel. Most of it seemed to be bark and twigs, but twice she saw bits of brown wrapping paper or kraft bags; once a piece of torn newsprint.

"When I bought the cabin, the door we just came through was not there. That is, it wasn't where it is now. I found it lying on the woodpile in back of the cottage." Neil's smug grin betrayed his self-satisfaction as he outlined his adventures.

"At first, I thought it might have been used as the front door while the other one was being hand-carved somewhere. But the hinges are on the wrong side for that, and there are no marks in the front doorframe where it could have been mounted. I checked the whole cottage, but that door was too big for anyplace inside.

"Then one day last summer I noticed a place in the hall paneling where it hadn't been nailed too expertly. When I tried to take care of it myself I found I was no expert, either. I managed to wreck the panel and knew I'd have to replace the whole four-foot piece. So I took it off, intending to get it matched at the lumber yard in Green Valley.

"And behind that four-by-eight hunk of phony cedar paneling was a doorway. The molding had been chiseled away, but I could see the hinge marks where a door had been hung. Right away I checked the measurements, and sure enough, that's where the extra door belonged.

"I tore back the packaged insulation that had been tacked into the doorway and found that it had been boarded up with thin paneling from the other side, too. I knocked it out and found the tunnel."

"But, where does it lead?" Abby wanted to know. "And what could be the purpose of it?" As she finished speaking, she stifled a gasp. She had caught sight of a woman's high heel against the tunnel wall. She wondered how and when it had been torn off the shoe, and dark thoughts started to plague her. But Neil took her mind off the ominous object as he replied to her questions.

"You'll learn the answers in a minute," he promised. Their footsteps echoed with a different sound as they rounded a bend in the tunnel. Abby slowed as they approached a seeming dead end, but Neil stepped forward and pushed against the concrete blocks.

A section of the wall pivoted open and he stepped through the gap, then motioned for Abby to follow. She took a deep breath and stepped past the concrete frame onto a brick-paved surface. She took several more steps and looked around in all directions.

They had come out of the tunnel through a wall beside a mammoth stone staircase. It looked like the entrance hall of a medieval castle. Light entered through panes of non-reflecting glass that were set in the casements of tower windows high above the main floor. On impulse, Abby ran up the first dozen steps and looked down on the authentically reproduced architecture below.

"We're in Castle Glen," she said. "It has to be... but why the tunnel to your cottage?"

"Let's go where we can get warm and I'll tell you. It's too cold to stand and talk here." Neil crossed the paved court to the staircase and started to ascend. When he passed Abby, she followed him instinctively, eager to get near the promised heat.

She was winded when they reached the next floor, for she had not yet acclimated herself to the six-thousand-foot altitude. But her youthful resilience was fantastic, and by the time Neil had unlocked a door halfway down the hall, she was breathing almost normally.

He held the door open only slightly until she was ready to enter, then threw it open wide and literally shoved her through with the pressure of his own body as he followed her. She was so startled by the ill-mannered action that she could only stagger to keep her balance, but as the door closed behind her, she realized why he had rushed them into the chamber so quickly.

"Down, Victor! Easy!" Neil snapped in a sharp, commanding voice. The uncommonly large dog that had almost sprung at Abby relaxed with a low growl, but continued to stand within three feet of her. She was immobilized with terror.

Victor was neither Great Dane nor anything else she had seen, but he was a mean package; she knew that, somehow, with a shocking certainty. The animal's back was as high as her navel, and his head was enough higher that he could have reached up and snapped those vicious-looking teeth around her nipples, though she didn't know why the thought came to her.

After the initial shock leveled off, her nostrils distended as she smelled the strong odor of the dog's excreta. Obviously, it had been confined in the chamber for quite a while, because there were several piles of its feces in the far corner, and stains on the stone walls and floor in numerous places were apparently his urinary calling cards.

"Wh-why... do you k-keep him penned up here?" Abby wanted to know. She recalled the feeding dishes in the cottage; if the dog were fed there, it should follow that he belonged in the cottage, not in the castle. After all, Neil Carver did not own the castle. At least, he had implied non-ownership. But then, how was it that the electricity was on? She could feel the warmth and see the thermostatically controlled heater sitting in a corner near the high tower window.

"Several reasons," Neil replied. "For one thing, a good, dependable heater such as that one draws a lot of current. You're economy-minded, remember? Well, when I have to be gone for quite a while, Victor keeps warm here and the electricity doesn't cost me anything."

"But who pays for it? Won't the people who own Castle Glen find out you're... using their facilities?"

"No one pays for it. And that's why the owners won't know I'm using the place. I mickey-moused the connections where the two-twenty comes into the meter circuits. As far as Southern Cal Edison is concerned, no power consumption is registered."

"Then the tunnel lights... everything... comes from this end; not the electricity at the cottage?"

"That's right. Well, did I speak the truth when I said that my cottage door led into a castle?"

"Y-yes. I guess you've proved that point. But surely someone is bound to discover... sooner or later... that you're... trespassing. Aren't you risking a lot by... well, by being here at all? What do you do here, anyhow, that's worth the gamble?" As she phrased the question, Abby began to feel more uneasy than ever. Unless he had some very good logic behind this risky trespassing, Neil Carver must be a little bit unbalanced!

"I'm not too worried about discovery," he grinned crookedly, distorting his neat goatee and mustache into a satanic twist. "The present owners are writing this 'investment property' off as a tax loss. It's been a fiasco ever since it was completed. Of course, their agent could give the place a spot check for vandalism, even though the ten-foot fence would keep out most intruders. But if he stuck his nose in this room, he'd never leave it to report what he saw. Victor would see to that!"

Abby sucked in her breath sharply. The look in Neil's eyes confirmed the sincerity of his tones. Was she indeed in the presence of a madman?

"I... don't think you should tell me any more," she said in a small voice that trembled in tempo with her knees. "I... F11 try to forget what I've heard. But maybe I should... be getting along to my cousin's cabin, now."

Neil took two steps and put an arm around her firmly, pinning her arms to her sides. His other hand grasped the quivering ripeness of her right buttock and squeezed it gently, then kneaded its girlish fullness through the wool of her ski pants.

"Silly Abby," he husked into her ear. "You don't think I'm going to let you leave here, do you?"

----Unsex me here, and. fill me from thecrown to the toe top full of direst cruelty...-Macbeth I,v,38 Wm. Shakespeare

CHAPTER TWO