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Seduction Of A Secretary
Copyright © 2016 Brother Wolf
Darque Taboo Press
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All Rights Reserved: No part of this publication may be reproduced or retransmitted, electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the publisher; with the exception of brief quotes used in connection with reviews written for inclusion in a magazine or newspaper.
Disclaimer: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic, adult language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable which might include: multiple sexual practices, heavy and strong BDSM themes and elements, erotic elements and fetish play. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/Fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles. All characters depicted at least eighteen years of age or older.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.
Hot thrills shot through the nubile young body of Helen Magnason, and a riot of feelings she could not have described raced through her mind. She knew only that they added up to pleasure an evil pleasure that threatened to overcome her knowledge that what she was doing was wrong.
The powerful arms that surrounded her were both her prison and her freedom, and the masculine scent that rose off the heated body of the aerospace engineer was a mesmerizing tonic. She wondered if this were all a dream, some strangely real nightmare that was somehow exquisitely pleasurable. Then she saw her nude body in the mirrored wall, and she knew that it was indeed happening to her.
"Don't fight it," the powerful man said. "Don't fight me. I love you, Helen."
She tried to speak but was unable, and then she saw his strong hand moving inexorably into the wiry hair of her cuntal mound. Her warm pussy moisture was seeping excitedly from deep inside her to dampen her tender thighs on the inside, just where her legs joined. Her cheeks were still wet, but her eyes stared wildly back at her, glazed in a mixture of terror, pleasure and awe.
The fiery heat from his hand flowed right through her flesh wherever it touched, firing some inner flame deep in her love-starved female flesh. She heard him moan low in his throat and felt him turn her around to crush her up against his naked, wanting body.
"Oh, Helen!" His mouth attacked hers, and she was crushed delectably against the hard, hairiness of his strong, male body. She felt his tongue plunge deeply into her mouth, his arms clenching her painfully, as though he were going to press her completely into his own flesh. "Ohhhhh," he moaned.
It seemed she couldn't get close enough. Her own arms crept around his neck as she opened her mouth wide to receive his wet, searching tongue. She could feel the hot, throbbing instrument of his rod, rigidly erect and clasped tightly between their naked, pressed bodies as her voluptuous breasts crushed hard into his hairy chest. The incredibly exciting messages filling her brain were cutting off good sense and sound reasoning.
George plunged deeply into her warm, velvety-soft mouth with his tongue, his cock jerking, still imprisoned between their hot, straining bodies. Never mind that now. He was going to bury his cock to the hilt in that sweet little pussy. She was getting hotter by the second, and he was going to flame that inner fire to furnace-like heat. He massaged her smooth, rounded buttocks with both hands now, cupping them to lift her up to him even harder.
Stopping a little, hm wrapped his arms under her buttocks to raise her against him till her head was above his, still locked to his mouth, and then let her beautifully naked body slide slowly down over his own. George could feel her smooth, soft flesh slide excitingly down against his thick, blood-swollen cock, pressing the tender foreskin downwards. He couldn't wait. He had to stick it in her, shove it into that hot little cunt, silky-smooth and waiting between the legs of the lithe and lovely brunette. She was gorgeous.
When Helen was standing again on the floor, he released her mouth, staring down at her with gleaming eyes that bored into her soul. His eyes flamed fiercely and she felt her whole body quake and shiver. Her fingers trembled with the erotic volcano that was erupting inside her. Solemnly, he kissed her fingers, one by one, never taking his hot, lusting eyes from her face. She was mesmerized by this romantic man.
"O-h-h-h. Helen!" he sighed at last, turning his head so his jaw pressed her temple, the image of their two bodies, pressed together from head to toe, springing into view in the bathroom doorway. "Look at us," he whispered. "Look how we look together. like two race horses in heat." Her eyes leaped to his in the mirror and then saw the beauty of their naked bodies, so lewdly intertwined. His hardness against her tender softness, his lean strength against her swelling lushness as they stood, belly, breast, thigh, faces together.
Her eyes widened in fear and amazement as she saw his long, thick prick pressed blunt-headed in between them. It was an instrument of torture, of agony. How could it be so massive? As a child, she'd once seen a man's when she'd inadvertently rushed into a public men's room. It had seemed only a limp, purple-headed, pathetic little instrument. The facts taught in sex education were not even close to the incredible reality of seeing this gigantic, pulsing thing. It looked even bigger than it felt down there against her fearfully quivering body.
Suddenly, the horror of what she was doing, where she was that she was with this man, hit her with the full impact of her guilt and shame. She'd been able to bear her grandmother's warnings all these years only because slim knew she was an innocent, a virgin, in fact, pure, despite the old woman's suspicions. Yet, here she stood, hotly panting beside a naked man who was obviously only after her purity, the only weapon she'd had against her shame and guilt. She'd be ruined, forever ruined.
Tearing herself from his arms, she tried to pick up her clothes. She was terrified and frantic to get away from this threatening stranger. Oh, why had she let this maniac in the house? She had to stop him.
"What are you doing?" he roared incredulously, grabbing her arms.
"Look at us?" she asked, mimicking him. "You want me to look at us in the mirror. Well, I looked and I saw," she blazed at him furiously. "My grandmother was right. You, you just want to..." Tears of rage, disappointment and shame welled up.
"Say it. I want to fuck you. Yes, I want to fuck you, and what's more, you want it, too. I can't believe this. You're out of a story book. You're a prick tease." He shook her, his hands pressing brutally into her arms. "No woman teases me, Sleeping Beauty!"
"Please, please!" she wept in terror and pain. "No, please, please let me go!" she sobbed. "Don't force me to do it and make me hate you."
"You won't hate me, you little bitch! I can promise you that," he snarled wildly, turning her around and shoving her further into the bathroom, right up close to the mirrored wall. Catching her elbows behind her back, he held her captive. "Look at yourself!" he thundered, grabbing her jaw and forcing her head up till her eyes lifted to the image of her naked, recoiling body and a bit of his body, naked behind her.
Helen saw her eyes wide with terror, the eyes of a captive animal, cornered and beginning to lose hope. Her cheeks were wet with tears, mouth slack and bubbling with sobs. "Pl-e-e-ese," she groaned.
"You see these tits?" George roared. "They're perfect for a man's mouth to suck on and tease." He flicked the stiffly reddened tips of her nipples with his fingernail. She shivered and moaned, the nipples closing even tighter to rigidly pointed tips. The velvety soft flesh of the areolas clenched and darkened around them. "You know why they swell out like that? Because they want to be sucked and bitten and chewed till they blow up like balloons." His hand came up to cover one milky-white, fleshy mound of her breast. "You know why that feels so good, so delicious? Because it makes your hot little pussy get all ready for my cock."
He moved slightly so she could see the thick, long rod of male flesh poling up from his dark, wiry pubic hair. He had an immense cock, thick-veined and swollen.
"Ohhhhhhh," she moaned helplessly.
"I'm going to teach you a few things, Helen." His voice was hard and unforgiving. She could feel his anger almost suffocating her in the room, that room so full of their naked reflections no matter where she looked. The sobs still bubbled up from her chest and they brought a hopelessness she'd never experienced before. Here in this house, she was going to be raped and ruined forever. She sagged against the arm that held her pinned like a helpless child.
"Oh, please!" she wailed.
"I said look!" he roared wildly, snapping her jaw up again. Her eyes opened painfully. She obeyed wearily and fearfully. He could do worse than rape, she knew, if she fought him. He could break every bone in her body with those hard, powerful hands. "You're a secretary, right? Well, now I'm going to be the boss. See my cock, the boss' cock?" He stroked the length of the rigidly hot rod with one hand, moving the foreskin back and forth until she could see that the huge, bulbous head of the fleshy shaft was oozing a thin white liquid. "The boss doesn't like to be teased. When my cock stands up, it's ready to ram into your hot little pussy." His breath was hissing through his nose and made a thrill pass through her as it tickled the flesh of her face.
"Ohhhhhh." She watched in horror as his hand came out, snaking across her white belly and down into the pale brown triangle of her pubic hair.
"I love your pussy." He stood behind her and put both arms in front along her sides, both hands down between her legs, spreading her thighs slightly till she stood in an obscene position with her legs spread wide apart. Helen could feel the mammoth length of his cock pressing tightly into her naked buttocks, sending pulsing messages of desire tingling up and down her backbone, lewd messages that her passion-confused brain did not want to translate, but her body received anyway. She fought it, but she wanted it.
His hands moved, the forefinger of each tracing excitingly along the soft pink outer edges of her cunt, fringed with sparsely curling pubic hair. "I love the lips of your cunt," he sighed as his fingers slid hotly back and forth over the blood-swollen cuntal lips. She could see the rounded lips moisten. "Just inside it is s-o-o-o sensitive," he crooned. His fingers touched the glistening inner lips that he peeled open to her amazed eyes. She stared in fascination as his fingers smoothed up and down till she could feel the sticky moisture of her cuntal secretions flowing warmly between her legs. Passion warmed her insides.
"See up here," he panted, his eyes fastened on the mirror image of her pussy where his fingers played and stroked obscenely. "It's your clit." His finger darted to touch something that looked like a tiny fold of flesh at the upper end of the finger-spread little slit. Helen felt as though her whole body were electrified by the sizzling jolt that shocked her. He'd touched her core, the very core of her being, and it buzzed like an alarm button that sent shivers of combined pleasure and pain along her every nerve, a thousand times more powerful than when she had touched it in the shower several hours before.
"When you are naughty, you rub your fingers there, as I'm doing now, don't you? You mash it against your finger because it feels so good, right?" His massaging finger followed the motions his voice described. Helen began to shake, her hips arching forward toward the terrible finger that sent these raging storms of desire racing through her helplessly trapped flesh. She remembered once, sitting there and rubbing her thighs together because it felt so delicious on the big sofa. Her grandmother had punished her terribly, beating her bare bottom unmercifully with a ping-pong paddle. She'd been so sore she literally couldn't sit down, and she'd sobbed for hours in her bed. She hadn't done it again till the past few months after the death of her grandmother.
This indescribably, incredibly exciting feeling was what her grandmother had punished her for. This feeling was what she wasn't supposed to feel. It was a sin to feel like this. A sin she'd never be forgiven for now. She was feeling it, and it was so good.
"That's where it is, Helen. That's it. Squirm up to meet me," he said. "Squirm up to meet me."
George could feel her quiver under his lewd ministrations. He watched her hips lunge forward in the slow, undulating grind of a woman in heat, grinding her tiny, throbbing clitoris up to his wildly massaging finger. Watching in the bathroom mirror, he could see the rosy pink cuntal flesh in firmly swollen lips, wet and shining with her moisture. Carefully, he peeled the soft, hair-fringed lips back till he could see the tiny bud of her clitoris, erect and quivering like a tiny blood-gorged prick.
She was moaning and wailing in spite of herself now, then holding her breath as she saw her own clitoris reflected in the mirror and his finger pressing hard on the tiny button. The beautiful young secretary jerked like a calf at the touch of an electric cattle prod, and George could feel his cock pulsing wildly against her silky-smooth, gyrating buttocks. Soon he would fuck the brown-haired beauty.
The mirrors reflected the soft white flesh of her beautiful nakedness, thighs splayed wide, head down and then thrown back against his shoulder, the heavily rounded young breasts heaving voluptuously, pelvis arching lewdly up to his tensingly working finger. That was the firmest, wettest, pinkest little cunt he'd ever seen. Young and tender and ready. He moved a hand up to enclose the resilient heaviness of one breast and began sliding his middle finger along the entire length of her excitedly slickened cuntal furrow, making a lewdly wet slurping sound with each forward thrust of her involuntarily moving hips.
"Ohhhhhh," she breathed softly as she felt and saw him manipulate her nakedly alive body, his hands darkly tanned against her whiteness. Her breasts felt tender and swollen.
Her cunt was flowering wetly, opening like a lascivious pink rose, spreading its soft-petaled lips wide to the burning touch of his hand.
She was a slut writhing to the master's touch, her flesh sensuously eager and urging, wanting his hotly insistent hands never to stop their insanely libidinous machinations. She stared at her own body. Only her eyes told her it was herself and not a character in a weird pornographic movie. It was she herself who was enjoying this lewd, fleshy hell. She was reacting and participating. Her own flesh, her own nakedly wanting flesh. Could her grandmother have known all the time that she was a slut, that under her demure, modest appearance there raged a latent whore who needed only the opportunity to expose herself? Could she have known that the real Helen Magnason was a slut, a brazen whore?
"Ahhhhh," George groaned, and turned her around, clutching her to him fiercely, pressing the heaving milky-white breasts into him as hard as he could. Then he found her mouth. George could still see her, imprinted behind his eyeballs, burned in rosy color into his brain as he closed his eyes and plunged his tongue into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. His tongue rammed into her mouth ferociously as his lust-incited cock pounded against her belly in excitedly frantic little jerks.
He tore his mouth away finally to pant, "I'm going to fuck you silly, you beautiful little bitch!" Catching her hand, he pulled away just enough to guide it down over his rigid, upstanding cock. He watched in the mirror the visual ecstasy of her hand sliding down his aching, bloated dick.
"Caress it for me," he hissed feverishly, never taking his eyes from the lewd image of his eagerly springing shaft enclosed in her soft, reluctant hand, the huge, bulbous head bursting out in a lewd purple bloom. His hands moved to stroke her coral-tipped breasts into rigidly peaked cones.
Looking into his eyes, glued in heated lusty fascination to the mirrored reflection of their naked bodies, she stared quizzically at him, afraid and uncertain. Stalling again, he thought, as he grabbed her loosely gripping hand and squeezed it hard over his almost bursting cock, fiercely jerking her hand under his guiding one, up and down, up and down.
"I said caress it!" She pulled up and down on the thick, massive bulk of his prick. It was new in her hand, feeling the blood coursing wildly under the heated skin. She saw the veins crisscross the Surface, the passionately red rim of the big head with its tiny oozing slit. Helen could not imagine how it could ever penetrate her between the legs without killing her. How could she possibly hold its enormity within the small fleshy folds he had revealed to her where her thighs joined? She knew it was possible, for the human race could only reproduce through this dirty thing she knew was about to be done to her.
"That's it, Helen," he panted obscenely, thrusting his hips forward so the lewdly slippery cockhead touched against the tender skin of her naked belly. She shrank back, her skin recoiling from the feel of that hot, pulsing instrument that was to be the final destruction of all that her grandmother had taught her was sacred.
Suddenly she felt ill, as though she were going to throw up the contents of her dinner all over this mirrored bathroom, all over his naked, lusting male body. She couldn't do this shameful thing. She just couldn't. She pulled away from him in horror, trying to quiet her churning stomach.
"I can't!" she sobbed, fresh tears pouring from her eyes. "I can't let you..."