Katie's Incest Adventures

"Oxford Kink Society"

"Oxford Kink Society"

by J.D. Savanyu

by J.D. Savanyu

I'm sitting here in a stuffy paleo-gothic lecture hall in the heart of Oxford, learning about history while remembering my own crazy incestous past. Professor Roderick McCreary rambles on about the kinky eighteenth century misadventures of Donatien Alphonse François, Marquis de Sade. Reminding me about my own secret BDSM adventures last year with Roger Keofferam, my billionaire father back home in Greenwich (the one in Connecticut, not the London "mean time" Greenwich.)

Roderick theatrically recounts one of de Sade's infamous fetish adventures with his housemaid Gothon. According to the Marquis, she had "the sweetest ass ever to leave Switzerland." (My ass ain't too bad either, as daddy frequently reminded me.) He frequently stripped Gothon and tied her to bondage platforms with her own lacy silk stockings and garter belts. Leaving only a cute lacy black-and-white french maid wimple on top of her pretty head while he whipped and fucked her hard in all three holes. He kept Gothon in bondage long after he was done with her, forcing that slutty Swede to watch him dominate and sodomize Latour, his "studly" male valet from Paris.

My redhead professor is also rather "studly" in a pretentious artsy way, with an irresistibly smug Scottish attitude. Getting my pussy wet in the front row of room 503, tingling eagerly beneath my pink $200 panties and red $300 plaid tartan skirt (which I bought to "fit in" at Oxford, de-emphasizing my American rich-bitchness.) I glance out the window at the creepy snow-frosted 1360 gargoyles along the roof of Hertford hall, daydreaming about one of my many "playtime" bondage sex sessions with daddy at our 1960 waterfront mansion in Greenwich, two months after my eighteenth birthday.

I can almost feel the soothing bubbling water of our basement hot tub enveloping my naked busty body as Roger slid a red polythene bondage unisleeve over my arms, binding them behind my back. He laced it up nice and tight, then he shoved me against the edge of the tub and smacked my ass nice and hard, as usual.

"Oooohfuuuck," I groaned with the stinging sensation, enhanced by hot chlorinated water.

"Naughty Katie," Daddy growled playfully. "I saw the way you were eye-fucking those stuck-up tennis boys after school today."

"I was just looking at them, daddy. I haven't been cheating on you with anyone."

"You betternotcheat on me, you ditzy-ass blonde."

Roger grabbed a heavy plastic spanking paddle from a nearby shelf full of kinky toys, and swung it firmly against my pale heart-shaped rump. The intense sting raced right up to my pussy and clit.

"Oh shit, you spank me sogood!Keep punishing your hot daughter, daddy."

My pussy buzzes like a remote control toy with my father's tough love, twenty months later and three thousand miles across the Atlantic ocean. I graft Roger's face onto Roderick as he analyzes de Sade's playful literary style inJustine,or The Misfortunes of Virtue.A novel he wrote while imprisoned at the Bastille for "debauchery and immoderate libertinage." (Back when men were men, and they could get away withalmostanything.) My own pussy buzzes harder when I picture Roderick slamming his professorial prick up my pinkhole. Fucking me fast and hard, like daddy always did. Turning my white ass red with his bare hands, then grabbing my long golden hair like a horse rein and yanking my head way back.

"You're fuckingmine,blondie!" Roger growled, spanking and pounding me even harder.

"Yes sir, Mister Keofferam," I uttered meekly. Squeezing my pussy tighter against his huge pistoning penis, Nearing another epic orgasm in that big steaming whirlpool.

"Call me your rich Greenwich bitch."

"I'm your rich Greenwich bitch," I groaned awkwardly.

"Louder!"

"I'm your rich Greenwich bitch!"

"LOUDER!"

"I'M YOUR RICH GREENWICH BITCH!OOOOOOWAAAAAAH!"

I kept wailing in complete climactic ecstasy, squirting like hell into the hot bubbling water. That amazing memory gets me so hot in the present Oxford scene. Spreading my tartan-skirted legs nice and wide beneath the antique desk, flashing my cute pink PINK panties at Professor McCreary, opening my mouth in a tell-tale orgasmic O-shape. Making him stumble mid-sentence about de Sade's fervent support for legalized prostitution in the kingdom of France. He grins slyly at his favorite student, obviously wishing he could ravish me right here in this splendid gothic academic palace, just like that deviant French dandy at his Dracula-esque hilltop chateau in Lacoste. The French Riviera was full of entitled noble douchebags like de Sade.

"Fuck yeah, I always make you cum so hard," Daddy growled in my naughty memory. "I got a big one coming too. On your knees, bitch!"

I crawled backward to the middle of the tub, hindered by having my arms bound all the way up to the elbows behind my back. Daddy grabbed my hair and yanked my head back again, aiming his huge cock toward my big beautiful blue eyes. Plastering my face with hot thick splooge, roaring like the alpha male Wall Street wolf he still is during my collegiate absence. I can almost taste that soothing bitter cream on my outstretched tongue. Currently at Oxford, I trace my index finger along my full red lips, tilting my head back and swooning with subconscious incestous lust. Making Roderick stumble in the middle of another sentence about the Marquis' irascible "libertine" antics.

The class ends ten minutes later. The ten other students quickly pack up their books and computers, eager to get the hell out of Hertford Hall and hit the trendy college bars on Queen Street on a festive Friday night. I linger in my hard wooden seat, watching a stuck-up British bitch named Tilda Sommerville tossing her long red hair and sashaying out of the room. She's got that purebred north country lass look with pale freckled skin and a pouty schoolgirlish expression. The kind of ginger cutie that professor McCreary is used to seeing all over the United Kingdom. Meanwhile, I've got a cliche American busty bimbo / porn star look, like a cross between Elsa Jean and Eva Elfie. But I'm far from a cliche "dumb blonde," getting straight A's at uber-prestigious Oxford.

Roderick pretends to read a book about Marquis de Sade while sneaking peeks at my perfect face and tits. I'm still quite horny after fantasizing about getting dominated by him and Daddy simultaneously. It's been six months since the last time I hooked up with Roger Keofferam in Manhattan, during a big business convention for his top-ranked investment firm. One thing led to another, and I ended up having a wild BDSM masquerade gangbang with a dozen of his Wall Street cronies. It was a mind-blowing surreal sexual adventure, but it made me realize we had to break off our toxic illegal relationship. I had to grow up and get somerealdom boyfriends to set me straight.

My old friends at Greenwich high school always told me that "the best way to get over a guy is to get under another guy." High time to put that sage advice into action. I can't wait to indulge in perverse erotic therapy with my crazy history professor. Teacher-student "intimate relationships" are a violation of the Oxford Code of Conduct, but that's small time chicanery compared to what I did with Roger for months on end. Go for it, bitch!

"Hey,Professor," I utter sweetly after everyone leaves.

"Hey,Miss Keofferam. You looked like you were...enjoyingmy lecture about de Sade," he replies awkwardly, frozen by my beauty and sexy body language.

"I sure was," I beam, cocking my head suggestively and tossing my shiny blonde bangs. "I'm a spoiled rich heiress who loves having kinky fun, just like that freaky Marquis back in the day."

"Is thatso?" he croaks eagerly.

"Hell yeah. That guy put the S in BDSM... but I like all those other letters too."

"Bondage, domination,andmasochism?"

"Taking domination, never giving it. I'm a sweet submissive kitten, letting men tie me up and do whatever the hell they want."

"My kind of girl," Roderick murmurs with a twinkle in his cute brown eyes. He obviously wants me just as bad, so I better not waste any time. Pounce on him like a cougar with a Prada purse. "I'm really into kink culture in my free time, when I'm not grading history papers. Always dominant, never submissive."

"Do you dominate any 'studly valets' in yourbudoir?"

"No way. I'm straight as an arrow."

"I've only had one lesbian encounter, during a masquerade orgy with my F-... with my freaky friends back in Connecticut." I bite my tongue after almost revealing my incestous affair to this sleazy "sophisticated" professor.

"I've had quite a few masquerade orgies with my F-... with my freaky friends in Oxford," Roger snickers flirtatiously. "I've got a big collection of antique leather whips and lots of other toys at my apartment on Longwall Street."

"Ooh, that sounds awesome. I want to be your next kinky sub, old-school style," I utter boldly, cutting right to the chase. Just like I did with daddy on my eighteenth birthday night, right after I opened his naughty present. A skimpy $900 bikini held together with gleaming gold rings. A big naughty grin spreads across Roderick's face, with his cheeks flushing pink in a tell-tale sign of arousal.

"That sounds rather barmy, Katie. Not exactly kosher with the Oxford HR department."

I grin just as naughtily, stepping closer and tugging the red tartan fabric against my big perky tits, pushing my erect nipples into a veiled view. "Screw those 'woke' HR pussies. I know youwantme, you freaky professor. Let's do a little hands-on 'field research' in your dungeon."

"Oh, bloody hell," he sighs comically. "It's a lovely Friday night, and I'm in the mood for a little 'extra credit.'"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We stroll pleasantly through the winding gothic alleyways of this splendid medieval campus, buzzing with taboo erotic anticipation. The crisp November air whistles through the intricately carved stonework of the Bridge of Sighs, deepening our darkly playful mood.

"I love that little bridge," Roderick muses. "It was inspired by the Bridge of Sighs in Venice."

"I went to Venice last summer, on vacation with my father." (An incest-soaked Italian escapade.) "That bridge went over a canal from the Doge's Palace to the city jail. Convicts would gaze longingly out the windows, savoring their last moment of freedom. Watching pretty rich girls pass by underneath, on gilded gondolas."

Roderick grins devilishly at me, making my pussy buzz even harder. I need to get whipped and fucked so bad, after going without daddy's skillful domination for so long. Something tells me Roderick will satisfy my ravenous sexual appetite even better than Mister Keofferam. His Old World academic mystique entrances me more than Roger's stock bro "Wolf of Wall Street" bravado.

Professor McCreary leads me away from the historic part of the campus, passing some trendy Queen Street bars and entering a nineteenth century beaux arts-style apartment building. We climb a creaky narrow stairway and stroll down a narrow dimly lit hallway, pausing at the front door of room 315.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Katie?"

I grin wider, then I shove him against the door and kiss him passionately, much to his pleasant surprise. His dick quickly rises to full mast against my red plaid dress.

"Does that answer your question, professor?"

"Loud and clear, blondie," Roderick snickers while squeezing my big heart-shaped ass. He unlocks the door and leads me into a small living room lined with tall shelves full of books about history and BDSM.

"Nice library, Marquis," I utter playfully. "But I'm not in a reading mood right now."

"Time to catch up on your homework, you devious schoolgirl wench."

He swoops in and hoists my lean body up into his strong arms, making me laugh giddily.

"Fuck yeah, Marquis de Sade. Drag me down to your chateau dungeon."

Roderick carries me across the living room, kicking open a door and revealing another small room with shelves full of vintage BDSM accoutrements. A few curious-looking bondage platforms are scattered in between. The one in the middle looks like a giant old-timey wagon wheel, like the ones that were used to torture Salem witches. He sets me down in front of it and strips me bare. Tossing my preppy clothes all the way across the dungeon, then sighing in admiration.

"Damn, girl. You're hot as fuck."

"Daddy's little cutie gone wild, on the other side of the pond," I giggle sweetly.

"You'remylittle cutie now," he grunts, smacking my ass hard for emphasis. I yelp approvingly, starving for more. He unzips his pants and whips out his long thick penis.

"Oooh, that's a nice big dick, just the way I like 'em. Can I suck it, Master de Sade?"

"Not yet, you crazy bloke. You gotta learn your lesson first."

"Teach me real good, like Gothon. I got the best ass ever to leave America."

"Shut the fuck up, cunt," he grunts, grabbing a bunch of rope from a shelf. "Get your hot ass up against the wheel."

I obey his order with an eager grin, backing up against the big wooden spokes. Stretching out my athletic arms and legs in a wide x-shape, grabbing the upper parts of the spokes. He ties my wrists and ankles tightly to the wooden spokes, locking me into another crazy fantasy scene. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for a wild ride in a new frontier. Not knowing what to expect from this freaky professor, but loving the sense of adventure, far from the "comforts" of home.

"Make it hurt, de Sade," I murmur eagerly.

"Fuck yeah, bitch. I'm gonna paint your big milky tits with red stripes."

He grabs an antique black leather horse slapper and traces the genuine cowhide teasingly around my pale white goose-bumped breasts. "This is a real solid cedar riding crop from the 1850's. Look at that intricate eagle design on the ivory handle."

"Wow, there's little red gems on the eyes. Creepy as fuck."

"Just like me," Roderick utters suavely. He swings the whip end nice and hard, lashing my sensitive pointy pink nipples.

"Oh god,yeah!Hard as fuck, Professor Freak!"

He swings that riding crop six more times in rapid succession, jiggling my big boobs with each loud stinging blow. Setting them on fire with sweet pain, just like daddy on those cool Connecticut nights.

"Naughty fucking college slut, seducing all your professors to get good grades. I'm whipping some sense into your entitled American ass."

He swings that whip ten more times, covering my milky white breasts with awesome red stripes. My pussy buzzes harder with each blow, desperate for kinky satisfaction. My entire body thrashes violently in tight x-shaped bondage, growling in masochistic ecstasy.

"Oh shit, oh shit! Get that good leather between my legs, Professor. Whip my pussy like the teacher's pet!"

"I'm gonna whip your tight yoga abs first. A little reward for all those workouts back in crazy rich Greenwich."

He whacks each individual abdominal muscle with keen precision. Driving me crazy, howling toward the crumbling plaster ceiling in his academic crash pad.

"You got anicepuffy pink twat, blondie," he growls, teasing my swollen wet vagina with that sleek shiny leather slapper. "This crop ain't big enough for that kitty. I got another kinky vintage toy that'll do the trick."

He goes to his shelf of tricks and gets a larger red whip with an oddly curved shape. "This baby was used in french brothels during thefin de siecleMoulin Rouge days. A long wooden handle for optimal momentum, and a curved vulcanized rubber tip to strike every square millimeter of those dirtyputains et connards.

"Holy shit," I groan, swooning with kinky anticipation. He swings that crazy french toy toward my american pussy and asshole, hitting them simultaneously with loud crisp WAAASH!

"A-hooo,fuuuuck!"

The sting is so sweet. Daddy had a vast collection of BDSM equipment in his dungeon by the sea, but he didn't have anything this good. Roderick keeps pummeling and pummeling each orifice, stroking his long dong slowly with his free left hand. Vaginal and anal pain and pleasure combining in one incredible flood, making my stretched-out legs quiver like hell against that Salem witch torture contraption. I lose count at twelve strokes, and then I lose all control. Roaring toward the rafters as an earth-shattering orgasm surges throughout my lean toned goose-bumped body. Squirting all over Roderick's "Moulin Rouge" hooker whacker.

"Goodgirl," he murmurs as I whimper pathetically. "I bet Touluse-Lautrec got lots of 'inspiration' while swinging this whip on Madame Désirée'schatte."

"Oh mygod,that's so fuckinggoood!"

"It gets better, you naughty busty schoolgirl. I'm gonna spank your heart-shapedderrierewith my favorite toy."

"Oh shit,yeah!Pound my fucking ass, you crazy Marquis!"

"I wish I was filthy rich like de Sade," Roderick remarks. He unties me from that old-timey inquisition contraption, then he drags my naked body over to a medieval stockade platform. He shoves my head and hands through three semicircular grooves on the lower board. "This thing was used for public humiliation in the good ol' days. Binding thieves and harlots in town squares, bent over with their asses sticking out for anyone to smack or throw garbage at. Public humiliation and public executions worked a lot better than all this crazy progressive 'defund the police,' 'counselors not cops' bullshit."

He slams down the upper board, locking me in that public humiliation pose in the privacy of his "dungeon."

"I'm drawing a big scarlet S on your ass, for Skank."

In that halfway bent-over position, I see Roderick stoop down to the bottom shelf and grab a red magic marker, along with a weird-looking spanking paddle with a metal turnscrew on top. He uncaps the marker and steps behind me, scrawling a Nathaniel Hawthorne-esque letter on my well-toned glutes. My pussy drips right down to his dungeon floor with taboo excitement.

"I'm gonna spank yourealold school."

"Fuck yeah, Professor. Make me your perfect sub."

He sets the curving wooden paddle down on my rump and turns the screw until both halves fit perfectly over both cheeks. Then he lifts it up and brings it down hard, making my entire body shudder yet again.

"Hoooshiiit!" I squeal harshly, rattling my wrists helplessly against the vintage town square stockade.

"Repent, witch! Accept the lord as your savior!"

"Never, you corrupt heathen!" I cackle playfully, like the Wicked Witch of the West.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

"Repent, witch, or I'll tie you up naked and drop you in the ice cold Thames."

"I'm no fucking witch, de Sade.You'rethe one who needs redemption." (A big fat lie. If only he knew!)

"You're a foul besotted wiccan wench! Repent!"

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

That solid form-fitting cedar paddle hurts so good, hitting all the spots that daddy's flat spankers couldn't reach. This whole kinky fling is happening in a crazy blur, just twenty minutes after leaving his history class.

"Oh god, okay, okay! I repent, I repent!"

"Good girl," McCreary utters warmly. He puts down the paddle and caresses my red stingy ass with his bare hands. I keep whimpering like a total pussy, surging with desire in the sweet spot between my legs. "Damn, I wish I knew who made that awesome "Turn of The Screw" spanking paddle. It was probably some hick Moorlands farmer who abused his puritan wife for any little offense, shit-faced on homemade whiskey."