Hypno Harem (10 page)

Taking My “Best Friend’s” Little Brat

For years I'd watched my pal Jerry’s child Harper grow up beside my own daughter. I loved them both, even though I knew the one who called me "Daddy" was his and not mine.

But when I learned my so-called friend was responsible for the break-up of my second marriage, I began to think of payback. Then when eighteen-year-old Harper came on to me not once but twice in a way hard to ignore, something dark and dangerous stirred inside me.

I’m a decent man – or was. She was an innocent girl – or was. I bound her, forced her, humiliated her, used her mouth, her virgin cunt, her tight asshole. My rage against my onetime pal was just an excuse. It turned out I liked what I was doing. I couldn’t stop. I used her in shameful ways – again and again.

And yet… she always wanted more.

I never knew revenge could be so sweet.

TAKING MY BEST FRIEND’S LITTLE BRAT - Excerpt:

Suddenly I realized the truth. The brat had come downstairs and found me asleep. She’d unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock for inspection and amusement. When I stirred, she’d dropped it and slipped next to me like she was cuddling.

It came to me that Bud’s daughter was as horny as her old man and just as free of conscience. He felt entitled to play with anyone I was married to. She felt entitled to play with me. I lashed out and slapped her full across the face, so forcefully she lost her balance and toppled off the couch.

That rattled me. “Oh my God, Harper! I’m so… I didn’t mean to…”

She got on her knees but stayed on the floor, just in front of me. Her cheek was rosy red but her eyes weren’t teary; they were bright and alert.

“I deserved it,” she said calmly. “I read what you wrote. Your letter to Daddy.”

She dipped her head and started at the floor as if ashamed for him. “He’s like a slut. Like a slut that’s a man. He thinks I don’t know, but I do. It’s why Mom divorced him. He’ll fuck anyone.”

I didn’t want to hear this and I found myself defending Bud, though not with complete conviction. “No, Harper. Bud isn’t… He’s not all bad.”

“Bad enough,” she said, eyes still on the floor. “And so am I. I’m a slut too.” She looked up. “And I want you to treat me like one.”

“No,” I said with authority. “Absolutely not.” I started to rise.

She lunged forward, flipped away my robe, grabbed my cock, put her mouth around it and began to suck. If I’d had any doubt of her inexperience before, I didn't now. It was clear she had no idea what to do. I wasn’t excited but I was alarmed at the way her teeth gripped my penis.

More than alarmed, though, I was angry. I reached over, grabbed her by her strawberry hair and yanked her off. I stood up, still clutching her hair, my cock bobbing inches from her face, which had a dreamy look of anticipation, as if she’d been fantasizing just such a scene.

She looked up from the floor, where she crouched. “Go on,” she implored. “Use me. I’m a slut.”

I tightened my grip. She winced with pain and God help me, my cock suddenly stood out hard and perpendicular as a tree limb.

“You want to be my slut, Harper?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Whatever you want.”

“What if I hurt you?”

"I hope you do."

The Biker’s Runaway: An Unlikely Love Story

What happens when a girl falls in love with the man she’s always believed was her father? What happens when a man falls in love with the child he’s always thought was his daughter? What happens when the two have to live alone together for a long hot summer?

If you’re looking for a Taboo Family Romance that’s a
real romance
, a story of repressed passion and love released, the kind of tale that will give you a warm bittersweet feeling – this book was written for YOU.

The Biker’s Runaway: an Unlikely Love Story
is about a pair of very real people, Frank and Abby Mancuso. For nine months of the year Frank is head of the San Antonio chapter of the notorious Aztec Motorcycle Club. But from June through August he’s “Daddy” to Abby and her brother Greg, who leave their home in Austin to spend summers with him. He and the kids have a ball: swimming, camping and shooting fireworks. The climax of every vacation is the Renaissance Faire, when the three don costumes for a weekend of fantasy fun.

But this summer is different. This summer Greg is interning in California and for the first time, Frank and eighteen-year-old Abby are alone together in Frank’s small house, both uncomfortably aware of her blossoming sexuality.

Tensions are strained to the breaking point when the two are forced to face what they’ve long suspected.
Frank isn’t Abby’s real father.

Pulled by passion, separated by taboo, Frank and Abby hold back – careful not to touch, not to break boundaries, not to bare forbidden longings. Yet every night, each dreams of holding the other in a reckless embrace.

Tormented, they count the days to the Renaissance Faire and the end of summer, when Abby will leave for college. The night before the Faire, however, passions flair and Abby flees for the home of a friend.

But fate has one last trick to play. At the Renaissance Faire reality and fantasy mingle and sometimes explode – as Frank and his runaway are about to discover.

Warning: this 28,000 word novella is for mature audiences only.

Daddy, If I’m a Billionairess, Why Do I Have to Make My Bed?

Alex Stevens-Macy
is 18 going on 12. She’s rich, spoiled and bratty. She has everything and what she doesn’t have she can buy. So why is she about to run away from home? Because the one thing she wants is the man who’s brought her up, dreamy
Mark Macy
– and he doesn’t want her, not in that way. To Mark, Alex is a little girl,
his
little girl. Since the death of Alex’s mom, Mark has taken his responsibility very seriously, especially since Alex’s latest “prank” resulted in criminal charges. To stay out of jail, she’s been remanded to Mark’s custody until she’s twenty.

So when Alex skips her AA meeting to get high with a bad boyfriend, Mark is furious. He’s waiting for her when she gets home late and when she’s rude and unrepentant, takes her in hand for some old-fashioned discipline. What happens next surprises them both and spins their relationship into a whole new direction.

It also causes a whole new set of problems, since a night of passion doesn’t make Alex any more mature or manageable. In fact it makes her brattier. Enter
Roberta Hardwood
of The Hardwood School of Corrective Guidance for Young Ladies. Hardwood is a former British army sergeant and police officer used to difficult girls. She’s also black and doesn’t take anyone’s shit. She locks down the family mansion and informs her defiant charge that she’s in for six weeks of Billionaire Boot Camp. Task One: make up your bed.

Daddy, If I’m a Billionairess, Why Do I Have to Make My Bed?
is a dirty-funny romp about sex and love (they aren’t the same), growing up, bird watching, cooking meals, keeping house and taking care of toddlers – and, oh yes, evasive driving techniques.

FROM THE AUTHOR: If you like my writing, you might also like my wife’s work. She writes damsel-in-distress fiction under the name
Madison Smart
. Her work isn’t as dark as mine but it’s exciting and erotic and usually features dubious consent and BDSM scenes.

Dark Bliss: Dangerous Games, Part 1

THE STORY: On vacation in Mexico, red-haired Boston socialite
Aurora Constable
is suddenly kidnapped. Bound and spread-eagled, Rory watches in horror as her captors prepare to sear her with a red-hot cattle brand. Rory struggles and screams, though there’s little chance of rescue. She’s in the middle of a barren desert with no one around for a hundred miles. No one, that is, but a stranger on a motorcycle, a deadly, enigmatic man who goes by the name of
Rock
.

Saved, Rory rides behind Rock as they race through Mexico on the run from ruthless slavers and corrupt police. Though she’s seen the violence he’s capable of, she finds herself drawn to this laconic, muscular brute. On their journey Rory discovers her rescuer to be a man full of contradictions: gentle and sensuous, fiercely possessive, keenly intelligent… and sometimes maddeningly remote.

Half-Mexican, Rock has returned to the land of his birth to escape a dark past – one that even now is reaching out to reclaim him and drag her along. Soon the two find themselves back in the US, enmeshed in a secret operation by the controversial government agency, D.A.R.C., to snare a longtime serial kidnapper and sadist known only as
Oberon
. The mission will test their growing feelings for each other as Rory explores a strange world of underground sex parlors and kinky sensuality. Will it break her … or enflame her?

DARK BLISS - Excerpt:

I
was
stretched between two stakes pounded into the dry desert ground, my wrists tied to one and my ankles to the other. I’d been that way for an hour, listening to the harsh voices of my captors talking and joking to each other. They were just out of sight but I’d heard the pop of beer cans and I smelled smoke.

They’d built a fire, but why? It was a long time till dark. The sun was hot overhead.

My gag had been removed when they dragged me out of their vehicle, the blindfold too. “Scream all you want,
puta
,” said the one with the brush mustache and mean eyes. “Nobody will hear you out here.”

“Nobody,” said his partner, the big one with the shaved head. “Not even the police!” The two burst into cruel laughter.

I had been about to climb in my rent car after shopping in the small but bustling Mexican town of Tuláz when I was grabbed from behind and a rough hand clamped over my mouth. I was silenced and bound with brisk, cold competence and thrown in an SUV.

Lying helpless in the back of the car as they navigated out of town and onto the highway to an unknown destination, I assumed that someone had discovered I was more than just another tourist. I could only hope that ransom negotiations would go quickly and I’d be home in a few days.

I didn’t know how they’d found out I was wealthy but only that could explain taking the risk of grabbing a
turista
in broad daylight in the middle of a busy town. My foolish dream of an ordinary vacation, just like any other American girl’s, had gone up in smoke. I was scared of course, but not frightened out of my wits. Judging from the speed and efficiency that I’d been snatched, I was in the hands of professionals who wanted to ransom me. That was consoling in a bizarre way.

I forced myself to do my breathing exercises. In and out, slow and deep. Again. Calm the body, calm the mind.
Panic will get you nowhere, Rory.

That helped. A little anyway. I twisted my body between the two stakes. My arms ached, stretched as they were, and I tried to relieve the discomfort. No such luck, the rope held me tight. I was baffled. Why tie me to the ground here in the middle of nowhere? I’d read once about Indians torturing captives by staking them in ant beds but aside from the occasional insect tickle I’d been spared that fate.

My mouth had gotten terribly dry. “Could I have some water?” I called.

“In a minute,
bebé
,” said the big one. “First we got something to do. Come on, Carlos”

I heard footsteps. The big one bent over me and thrust a leather strap between my lips, buckling it in back. I protested but the strap made clear speech impossible. “No, doan! Pleath doan. I be quieh.”

“It’s not to shut you up,
bebé
. It’s to keep you from biting your tongue,” laughed Carlos. “Need to save that pretty mouth to suck my dick.”

He came around and stood in front of me, holding some kind of glowing iron tool. What in the world was going on? Surely they didn’t intend to torture me? Kidnappers don’t hurt hostages unless the ransom isn’t paid and I’d been grabbed only hours—

“Brandin’ time,
bebé
,” said the big one, pulling up my dress.

Oh my God! They’re going to
brand
me!
I struggled between the stakes and shrieked through the leather strap. “No,
no
! Pleath!” I begged. “Doan!
Pleath
doan!”

They laughed. “Sorry,
puta
. Orders.”

“Hold her leg still,” said Carlos. “She’s moving too much. I want a nice, clean mark.”

“
Con mucho gusto
,” said the big one, gripping my thigh tightly.

Carlos slowly moved the branding iron toward me, clearly relishing my terror. He held it just over my thigh, ready to mark me forever. I shut my eyes tightly, waiting for the pain of the hot metal.

“She’s worth more without the brand,” said a new voice.

Hypno Harem

©
2014 by Morgan Wolfe

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. All characters represented within are eighteen years of age or older and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. None of the characters engaging in sexual activities are blood related. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.