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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to o
o be typed therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s o
o a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises o
o that you might not have even thought of looking for. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
A Lipstick Called Blackmail (Femdom, forced tg)
by PleaseCain (pleasecain@aol.com)
EXPLICIT MATERIAL NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS
A Lipstick Called . . . BLACKMAIL!
(© 1998 PleaseCain)
[ IN COLOR]
The clock chimed midnight as I flicked on the light and dropped my
bag. A quick spin through the house to make sure no one was around,
and then I grabbed a beer from the fridge. There was food in the
freezer for later, but I headed straight to my parents' room, to Mom's
underwear drawer.
I had been wearing panties ever since I went away to college this
term. It was tricky business because I had a roommate and there was
plenty of traffic in the dorm, but that added to the turn-on. The
cool breath of a clean, silky pair sent a bolt of excitement like a
wire to my crouch, making my prick god-awful hard and struggling all
muscles and veins against the velvety fabric. Sliding that whole
package inside a loose pair of jeans almost made me dizzy, wearing the
slutty women's underthings beneath my normal clothes all day, stopping
people I saw across the Quad, going to public bathrooms, or
daydreaming in class. Sometimes I couldn't wait to get back to the
hall and I'd duck into the nearest john to spooge into the toilet.
The whole drive home, I thought about this moment, and didn't wear my
own panties home for this reason: that I wanted to wear my mother's
sexiest pair of undies, all weekend, and maybe take them back with me
on Sunday night. It wasn't an incest thing, but it was definitely
nasty, and made me hot.
I knew Mom didn't wear my kind of panties, the tiny, colorful ones
that my cock snaked out of when hard, but since I'd had the idea a
couple weeks earlier, I'd become so set that anything I found would be
a major rush, even if they were elephant pants. If a tent was the
foxiest thing in that drawer, then a tent is what I would wear.
During the drive, I guessed that since they were away that Mom
probably brought her hottest underwear along for romance, and I would
probably be stuck with the tent. But then again, since all the kids
were out of the house, they probably "romanced" a lot, so maybe a
short getaway was no big deal to them. As my ride pulled into the
driveway, I crossed my fingers--my decision had been made long ago.
Inside, I shed my clothes pronto, my prick already squirming to life
as I slid open the top drawer. It was perfumed and neat, with three
stacks of folded panties. As I lifted and examined each pile, it was
as expected, beige or white, of the large comfort-cut. Parachutes.
Mom was so boring there weren't even stains.
The three exceptions were faded jockey cuts, one yellow, one aqua; and
then a scarlet panty. It was covered by a fishnet overlay sewn atop
the fabric, and was smaller than the others, but hardly daring.
Still, and the most exotic by far.
I peeled the reds away and gently replaced the stacks. My feet
through the holes, I slid her panties to my knees, stopped, then
inched the cool fabric over my thighs. They worked the magic. My
pecker bobbed with each heartbeat. In the mirror, I watched my balls
and erection disappear within the sexy underwear. I pushed my dick in
by pointing it to the side, and snapped the waistband shut.
I turned to admire my snug-to-bursting pouch, throbbing and hot. I
rubbed the length of my cock from the outside, tantalizing it, waxing
the head between my fingertips at the end of each stroke. My other
hand roamed my bare chest, my nipples, my tummy.
My hands moved to my crouch, playing against my grinding pelvis. I
felt up my ass through the undies, packed so pert and tight that I had
to jut it lewdly back to prod a tickling finger between my cheeks to
my puckerhole. My hands groped within to jerk my rod roughly, while
two of my fingers wriggled into my hole. My grunting didn't last.
"Fuck fuck fuck," I came in hot globs down my hand and inside of
Mommy's panties, spilling from the top and onto her carpet, until I
finished assriding my hand and collapsed sideways on the bed.
It was an incredible cum. I ran my slippery hand over my belly and my
new panties.
My eyes opened to a sunsplashed room. I had crashed on my parents'
bed. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard her laugh.
To my side, Jienta the maid shook her head and finger, clucking one of
her damned Mexican words, "Chica, chica."
Snapping to, my fright became rage; I bounded to my feet. "Get the
fuck out!" I screamed, "Now! Go fucking home!"
She slapped me, hard. She was not a large woman, but solid, and very
strong. Her flat Indian features remained impassive. She had not
flinched throughout my brief fury. Smarting from the single blow, I
staggered, rubbing my cheek beneath her glare.
Shocked and yes, intimidated, I stood dumbly when she pushed past to
my mother's closet, mounted a stool and tossed a clothing box on the
bed.
More insistent gibberish, pointing at the panties I wore. And more,
endless jabbering and chiding. Then Jienta dove to her knees and
impatiently yanked my panties. I lost my balance and fell to the bed,
and she pulled them loose. I lay naked and cowering.
The box was opened. On Jienta's fingertips hung lacy black lingerie.
She dropped it on my stomach. More gesticulating and a snicker
clearly ordered me to put it on. I examined it, a teddy, very airy
and sheer.
"Hey," she called, and tapped on my parents' wedding picture with an
acrylic fingernail. I had already surmised that the teddy was my
mother's, so I knew her gesture was more persuasive than informative.
"Chica," she taunted, shaking my chin in her hand. I didn't have much
choice.
The bottom fit me snugly and surprisingly well, as I'm not a tall guy.
The shoulder straps were tight once on, and of course the decollete
was absolutely ill-fitting, even though Mom had small tits. I wasn't
concerned about the fit at the moment, however, and only sought to
placate the ugly horse before I could figure out a way to have her
fired or killed.
If my head wasn't into wearing a teddy, other parts obviously were. I
hadn't noticed the split crotch (Mother!) until Jienta violently
pulled the hole forward with two fingers, fully intending to draw my
swelling dick through. My erection was hardening, and I was
frightened by the idea, but with a couple of her vigorous tugs and a
slight tear, my pole stood beet-red against the sheer tummy.
"Ah, Chica," she breathed, kneading my mons in her palm like so many
marbles. I could not believe, nor hide, my arousal. If she had
continued, I would have cummed in her hands, but she spun me to the
full-length mirror. I admired myself in the sexy underwear,
especially my stoked erection which bobbed so conspicuously against
the sheer black fabric. I debated jerking myself in front of this
woman, before she stepped in my reflection, untwisting a lipstick. I
let her put it on me. She teased my hair with her hand and a comb,
then stepped aside and giggled. I looked more humiliated and
disheveled than convincing or sultry, but I was very hard.
Thwack! Jienta swatted my penis with the comb. I started not from
pain but surprise. She reached down, held it out straight atop her
fingers, and slapped it again, once more on the head. It stung, but
actually felt good. She pointed to the floor before the mirror. I
sat as bid. Jienta sipped out of her hose and panties, so she had
nothing on under her cleaning dress as she sat on the edge of the bed
and motioned me over.
I scooched directly beneath her, my legs splayed wide, leaning back on
my elbows. Jienta bent forward, rolling my cock like a firestick
between her hands, petting my scrotum occasionally through the lace.
"Jes, Chica, jes." But she let go, saying, "Jou!"
I needed to cum so badly that I gladly obeyed and started fisting
myself, pumping hard. Her foot nestled between my asscheeks and
pushed. She babbled more of her dirty nonsense, but I was incoherent.
I shot and shot ribbons of sperm on my tummy, all over my Mommy's
lingerie, my hot juice staining and seeping through to my skin. It
was the most intense orgasm I'd ever had, as I kept pulling harder,
pumping an endless gush of semen.
I was exhausted and huffing. Jienta's foot poked me to attention. I
looked, she mimed, I scooped hot sperm on my finger and sucked. Still
finding my bearings, I didn't care.
Her foot again. I looked. Jienta hiked her dress to her stomach and
spread her knees wide.
"Come!" She snapped her fingers. "Now!"
I raised to my knees, she pulled my hair. Her pussy was a carpet of
thick, black hair, and pungent crimson lips, and she held me to it,
using my face for her long morning pleasure.
That night I went out with a couple high school buddies, but the
arcade was boring and I was in by 12. It sucked. I shouldn't have
come home.
Sunday morning I was vegging in front of the television, watching
stale Hanna Barbara toons, mindlessly groping myself under the sheet,
when the backdoor lock clicked. Jienta stepped inside, followed by a
man.
"What are you doing?" I yelled, and gathered the sheet around me.
"Get out of here!" They walked casually my way, not batting an
eyelash. "Get out of here, you bitch. Leave!" my voice cracked.
She made straight for the couch and slapped me twice, not as hard as
the day before, but she didn't have to with him laughing over her
shoulder. I sobbed, "Why are you doing this? Leave me alone."
She spat and tugged me to my feet, to my parents' bedroom. I tried my
best to hold the sheet around me, but she was strong and I tripped
over it and let it drop. She dragged me nude past her chortling
friend. "Ha! Cholo!"
From her bag, she pulled my mother's black teddy, discolored in
front, and threw it at me.
"Please, no, I . . . I can give you money, lots. . . ." She pointed
severely at my parents' photo. "Please don't make me." She stepped
ominously closer, so I shut up and fumbled with the lingerie. She
cuffed me about the crown anyway, so I did my best to put it on as
quickly as possible, with my cock through the fuckhole the way she
liked. She pushed black nylons into my hands. I thought a second,
then clumsily slid them on. If I did what she said, I might get away
and be at school in a few hours, and never return, never. . . .
It was an awkward operation, pulling the stockings tight and smooth,
though they did feel pretty good on my skin. Jienta held out the
chair from my mother's vanity table, and rushed me to sit. She rouged
my lips again, then pulled out a woman's wig, blond and curly. I was
stunned, but she wasted no time wetting my hair back and stretching
the getup over my head. In the mirror, some mascara, and a few loose
strands coiffed back, while she whispered approvingly into my ear.
"Now . . ." she said, and hiked her dress, nothing underneath, and
planted her shoe squarely on my crotch. Her knee cocked to the side,
hips thrust forward, I was relieved that was all she wanted, so I
leaned over to lick her without further prompting. She was already
sloppy wet, and smelled of old sex.
I sucked her hanging clitoris. She moaned and bucked. "Ah Chica,
y-yes!" My cock was shoe-flattened by her every thrust. After a few
guttural groans from the depths of her throat, the foot was removed,
my mouth and my dick freed.
I turned and faced an erect penis.
It was violent red and gamey, its tip salivated thickly. They smirked
at me. Two pairs of hands pulled my head onto his prod. I resigned,
assented, opened. A penis was in my mouth, big and hard. He fucked
my face, as tears streamed down my cheeks, brushed away by Jienta's
fingers. When he mercifully withdrew, Jienta pulled me to the carpet,
to her waiting snatch, locked me in her crossed legs while the man's
hands fastened my hips and he made me his woman.
Later when my ride arrived, I sobbed and held myself in a ball,
sniffing my Mommy on the shoulders of her negligee, until the honking
stopped and the car disappeared down the driveway.
I caught the Amtrak early next morning.
During semester break, I was home only for Christmas Day, and returned
to school the twenty-sixth, overcoming my parents' befuddlement with
much hectoring and a fib that I had found a job at the bookstore. Mom
cried that I had left the nest too quickly. I spent New Year's Eve
alone, drinking pitchers in a deserted bar on the Strip.
Midway through the new term, I still hadn't concocted a story that
would get the bitch Jienta fired and out of my life, though most days
I thought about it in the shower before I'd play with myself. So,
imagine my glee when Mom told me she had sacked and replaced the
entire house staff after some stealing. I was ecstatic! Weeks later,
with one year of college under my belt, I sat on the passenger side of
a car, smiling from the glare of the May afternoon sun and a
much-needed summer of leisure at home.
I was happy. Good food, my high school friends, sleeping late in my
own bed, watching TV, Dad's liquor cabinet, and more peeks at my Mom's
underwear drawer and everywhere else in her room. She typically
cleared out for the day, running her little bullshit errands or
attending her club socials and Proposition Whatever functions and the
like, and I would invite the guys over to the swimming pool, or when
no one could make it and I was alone except for the beaner vacuuming
the pool, just sunbathe with the stereo blaring and drink spiked iced
teas until I fell asleep.
"Bitch!"
Shocked awake with a thudding blow to my face.
My head jerked painfully askew from the impact. My body was
paralyzed. Through the thick ringing, Jienta fumed down at me, with
that man grinning behind her. My arms were pinned beneath a towel
held taut across my trunk by at least two people behind me. One
snapped my head back by my hair, and Jienta's palm thudded my cheek
once more. Breathless from shock and numbing pain, my shoulders and
head sank, my struggle over.
They pulled off my trunks and lugged me onto a towel spread poolside,
and the three men fucked me while I sobbed into Jienta's humid cunt.
As shadows fell, I lay exhausted on my side, semen trickling down my
ass, with the cheap teddy they left me still draped over my head,
shading my eyes like a torn lace veil.
My mother pursed her lips when they first came calling, Mexicans at
the front door! waiting, stony silent. Large, anxious eyes followed
me, gymbag in hand, out the door and down the drive to the waiting
car.
It was best when they came for me, for those times I was sure to get
the candy- yellow blow, and plenty of it for as long as they partied
in my ass. They could be nice, too. Those long nights passed like a
warm, giddy shower.
Once, tired of the waiting, I made myself up and dressed and hopped a
cab to their taverno, the El Gato. But they weren't around, and no
one answered my questions, only smirked and leered, laughed and
crowded me into the backroom for a night of harsh mescal and tears.
The shriveled blindman who chuckled warmly whenever I walked past his
barstool, that night cackled like a dry coyote at my shrill pleas.
When I stumbled to the cabstand six hours later, wet wig and tattered
hose, he was slumped against the wall outside, snickering a low
benediction at my back.
After that, I waited for them.
I don't know if Mom ever recognized Jienta amongst those in the car,
or if she saw the wet kisses Jienta would plant as she reached into my
bag for my makeup and clothes, to ready me for whatever hall or party
we were headed that night, to be their Chica.