All Chapters of Taboo: Ties and Sins - Fetishes: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Jessica Clare pushed the heavy bar door open with her shoulder, the icy air conditioning immediately hitting her hot and sweaty skin from the infernal day she'd had. It was almost ten o'clock, the center of São Paulo still pulsing with the noise of distant horns and the smell of hot asphalt mixed with exhaust fumes. She didn't care. The tight black dress—that thin lycra one that barely covered half her thigh—clung to her perky ass and the curves she'd earned through squats and CrossFit. No bra. Her nipples were already marking the fabric, hard from anger and exhaustion.Work had been absolute shit. Her boss, an asshole in an expensive suit and inflated ego, had spent the entire afternoon throwing hints about "tight deadlines" and "professional attitude," while staring fixedly at her cleavage during the meeting. Jessica wanted to forget. She wanted alcohol burning her throat and, who knows, something dirtier to erase the frustration.She sat at the high counter, slowly crossing her tan

Fabian’s bedroom already smelled of sex before they even got there. Black sheets rumpled, low amber light from a bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. Jéssica was still trembling from the thrusts at the entrance, her pussy throbbing, thighs slick with a mixture of cum and arousal. Fabian carried her like a flesh doll, one hand gripping her raised ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh.He threw her onto the bed hard. The mattress sank under her weight. Jéssica landed on her back, legs instinctively spreading, the dark-green dress already bunched around her waist. Fabian stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at her like a predator sizing up prey.“Take it off. Now.”Jéssica started pulling at the fabric, but he was faster. He grabbed the deep neckline with both hands and tore it apart. The sound of ripping cloth echoed in the room. In two seconds the dress was in shreds. She was completely naked, skin goosebumped, nippl

Three months. Exactly ninety-two days since that first night at the bar, when Fabian Anders sat down next to her and said, without beating around the bush, that he wanted to fuck her until she forgot her own name. Three months of nights that started at six-thirty and ended when the sun came up, of swollen pussies, marked thighs, throats hoarse from so much moaning and swallowing. Jéssica Clare was no longer the same. Her body carried his marks: faint bruises on the inner thighs, bites on her breasts that took days to fade, an anal plug she wore to work just to remind herself who was in charge. And her pussy? Always wet, always ready, always throbbing for the thick cock that tore her apart every night.It was a Friday at the end of March, São Paulo sweltering under a humid heat that made clothes stick to skin. The office air-conditioning couldn’t keep up. Jéssica left early, claiming a headache. She wore a light white dress, almost transparent under the right light, short enough to fla

The elevator remained a dark, stifling tomb, the air thick as soup, heavy with the stench of sweat and hot metal. Ana and Marcos sat on the dirty floor, backs against the cold wall, legs stretched out and nearly touching in the cramped space. Marcos’s phone flashlight flickered weakly, battery in the red—he turned it off to save power, leaving them in near-total darkness, lit only by the faint, intermittent glow of an emergency light that barely illuminated their faces. The heat rose slowly, like a slow, torturous fuck, making sweat trickle down their skin in sticky streams. Ana felt drops tracing paths through the valley between her breasts, soaking her bra and making her nipples harden against the thin fabric.“Fuck, this heat is driving me insane,” she thought, imagining for a second his rough hands squeezing those tits, sucking the hard nipples until she moaned like a bitch in heat.Marcos, beside her, shifted position, his arm brushing hers—accidentally, or maybe not. His smell w

The elevator remained a dark, suffocating den, the air thick like a fog of sweat and raw lust, impregnated with the strong smell of heated bodies and palpable excitement. Ana and Marcos were panting from the mutual masturbation of the previous chapter, their bodies glued together on the dirty floor. The rough carpet was marked by puddles of sweat and fluids leaking from her soaked pussy. Her recent orgasm still echoed in tremors through her body, but the arousal hadn’t diminished — on the contrary, it grew like a starving beast, fueled by the isolation and oppressive heat. Ana felt her pussy throbbing painfully, swollen and slippery, craving more than just fingers; she wanted his cock, thick and real, filling her to the limit. Marcos, his cock pulsing in her hand, precum coating her fingers, could barely hold back, his hips moving instinctively against her touch.“I want you now, you bastard,” Ana whispered, her voice hoarse and heavy with dirty urgency, her eyes gleaming in the dimne