Semua Bab TASTEFULLY INDECENT: Bab 1 - Bab 10

“Damn it!” I cursed as the car swerved roughly to the left. The car hit a stone and jarred us, bending to the side.But that was not why I cursed.I looked to the side, my eyes rounding out of their sockets as my fear was confirmed. I looked from the bulge of the trousers my hand was resting on to the owner of the erection.“Sorry,” Jesse, my stepfather, said, looking sheepishly down at his erection.I should have moved my hand away but no matter how hard I tried, my hand refused to move. The dick grew by another inch. I molded my hand around the flesh, feeling the thickness. A moan escaped my throat before I could stop it.Jesse cleared his throat, moving my hand away from his cock. He shifted slightly to the side, effectively hiding his erection.“Sorry,” I muttered. I looked to the side, focusing on the tall blades of grass on the side of the road. But as much as I wanted to keep my mind busy, nothing was working. Not the thought of the fact that he was married to my mother. Not th

Lily.All through the next day, I didn’t catch sight of my stepfather. It was almost like he was deliberately avoiding me. The dream of having his cock in me and his muscled body trapping my fragile own was gradually dying. Perhaps, it was all for the best, I thought, my head hung low as I stepped into the house. After all, he was my stepfather. And to boot, he was almost three times my age. The thought was not something I should have conceived.My phone rang, drawing me out of my thoughts. I swiped it out of my pocket, smiling sheepishly when my boyfriend’s name flashed across the screen.“Adams,” I said into the phone the minute I picked up. “Want to come over? I’m home alone,” I said with a naughty chuckle. He was exactly the distraction I needed. The person to die every single thought I’ve conceived about Jesse.“Wear that nurse outfit I got you. I’m in the mood for a role play.” He said.“Got it.” I hung up the phone and darted straight to my room. Adams lived just about ten mi

I couldn’t go back to the apartment that night.Not yet.The blanket he’d wrapped around me still smelled faintly of fake blood and his skin. I sat on the cold floor beside him for what felt like hours, knees drawn up, breathing slowly. My body hummed. Every muscle ached in the best way, like I’d run a marathon and won. The good girl inside me was curled up somewhere small and quiet, stunned silent for the first time in my life.He didn’t push me to talk. He just sat there, back against the wall, one knee bent, watching the red lights flicker across the ceiling. Eventually he offered me water from a sealed bottle. I drank like I’d been dying of thirst.“So, are you ready for the next session?” He asked.I shook my head. “I need… air. Space. To think.”He nodded. No disappointment creased his face. He didn't try to pressure me as well. Instead, he helped me dress. When I slipped the coat back on, he pressed a small black card into my palm.“No name. Just a number. Text if you want ano

I waited exactly one week again, but this time it felt like torture.The shallow cuts from Level 3 had faded to faint pink lines—ghosts on my skin that I traced in the mirror every morning, pressing until they stung just enough to remind me. The forum threads burned hotter now: whispers of “Level 4: where the real breaking happens,” “sensory overload until you beg for mercy,” “marks that last weeks, not days.” I read them in the dark, fingers between my legs, chasing echoes of that night until I came with his voice in my head: Careful what you ask for.I wasn’t careful. I texted him at dawn on the seventh day.Level 4. Tonight. Make it break me.His reply: 22:00. Door 13. Wear red. Nothing underneath.I chose a crimson slip dress—silk, barely there, clinging to every curve like spilled blood. No lingerie. No boots. Just bare feet and the card in my pocket like a talisman. The warehouse air hit my skin like a promise when I arrived. The greeter didn’t speak this time—just nodded when

I let the marks from Level 5 heal for almost a month.Not because I had to—because I wanted to feel every fading bruise, every faint needle scar, every place where skin had stretched and remembered. I walked around Los Angeles with secrets under my clothes: the ghost of welts when I sat too long on a danfo seat, the tender pull when I reached for something high. At night I touched myself slowly, replaying the double stretch, the way their bodies had pinned me between them until I dissolved into pure sensation. The hunger never left; it just grew teeth.On the twenty-eighth day, I texted.Level 6. Tonight. Add another man. I want three of you. Double penetration again—but make it impossible to think.His reply took longer than usual.22:00. Door 13. Wear nothing under the coat. We’ll be waiting.I arrived barefoot, coat belted tight over bare skin. No makeup. No lipstick. Just me—raw, already trembling. The greeter led me down without a word. Door 13 opened, and the air inside was thic