Forced Incest Erotica

⚡ 👉🏻👉🏻👉🏻 INFORMATION AVAILABLE CLICK HERE 👈🏻👈🏻👈🏻

Available for everyone, funded by readers
Ten of the best books on incestuous relationships
This is where it starts. Thanks to Freud, the story of the young man who unwittingly kills his father and marries his mother has long been treated as an expression of every male child’s unconscious desires. In the actual play, it is Oedipus’s desire to “find the truth” that is fatal, with everyone else (including mother Jocasta) advising him to stop probing. Best not to know.
There are plenty of nasty couplings in this collection, and none more disturbing than the story of Myrrha, who lusts for her father Cinyras. To frustrate her passion she tries to hang herself. A maid saves her and helps her consummate her desire with her drunken father. When he chases her from his court, the gods turn her into the eternally weeping myrrh tree.
Ben Jonson called this chaotic romance a “mouldy tale”, but it begins with a dark discovery. King Antiochus sets a riddle to defeat the many suitors for his beautiful daughter. Pericles finds the solution - which is that she and her father have had an incestuous relationship. Now our hero is in big trouble ...
Moll is so good at disguising her true identity that some confusion is inevitable. On a trip to Virginia she falls for and marries a lusty young man who turns out to be her son - one of several children she has dropped off along the way. She claims to be appalled, but doesn’t let it depress her for long.
This was intended to be Shelley’s magnum opus: a huge narrative poem about political and sexual emancipation. The original version was named after a brother and sister whose revolutionary fervour led them into taboo-shattering passion. However, he decided that the incest would distract more hidebound readers and published a safer version, The Revolt of Islam, in which they were no longer siblings.
Another of Nabokov’s amoral fables. Van Veen writes his memoirs in old age, telling of his lifelong love for Ada. Having met as children, they believe themselves cousins and guiltlessly become lovers. However, the narrator tells how he later finds that he and Ada have the same father. Does this worry him? Not very much.
A story of forced incest that turns out to be something different. Celie, the heroine of Walker’s novel, writes letters to God telling her story of suffering. Aged 14, she is repeatedly raped by her “father”, Alphonso. After many misadventures, however, she discovers that he was in fact her step-father. She is liberated, and inherits his land.
The adolescent Jack tells his very peculiar family story. When his mother dies soon after his father, he and his siblings keep the fact a secret. With mum’s body under cement, they spend a hot London summer indulging their fantasies. For Jack and his sister Julie, this means taking their intimacy to its logical consummation. Fun while it lasts.
Plot synopsis can hardly do justice to this rambling, variously comic and tragic saga, which tells of the fortunes of the hotel-owning Berry family. One of the five children is John, the narrator, who loves his sister Franny with a special intensity. Their union is described in peculiar detail.
Historian Claudia Hampton is dying and the novel is her attempt to tell the story of her life. She reaches back to her childhood with her brother Gordon, who was to become her confidante, competitor and - eventually - her lover too. In retrospect, the narrator has to forgive herself.
The headline on this article was amended on 25 January 2021 for clarity.
… as you're joining us from Russia, we have a small favour to ask. Tens of millions have placed their trust in the Guardian’s high-impact journalism since we started publishing 200 years ago, turning to us in moments of crisis, uncertainty, solidarity and hope. More than 1.5 million readers, from 180 countries, have recently taken the step to support us financially – keeping us open to all, and fiercely independent.
With no shareholders or billionaire owner, we can set our own agenda and provide trustworthy journalism that’s free from commercial and political influence, offering a counterweight to the spread of misinformation. When it’s never mattered more, we can investigate and challenge without fear or favour.
Unlike many others, Guardian journalism is available for everyone to read, regardless of what they can afford to pay. We do this because we believe in information equality. Greater numbers of people can keep track of global events, understand their impact on people and communities, and become inspired to take meaningful action.
We aim to offer readers a comprehensive, international perspective on critical events shaping our world – from the Black Lives Matter movement, to the new American administration, Brexit, and the world's slow emergence from a global pandemic. We are committed to upholding our reputation for urgent, powerful reporting on the climate emergency, and made the decision to reject advertising from fossil fuel companies, divest from the oil and gas industries, and set a course to achieve net zero emissions by 2030.
If there were ever a time to join us, it is now. Every contribution, however big or small, powers our journalism and sustains our future. Support the Guardian from as little as $1 – and it only takes a minute. Thank you.
© 2021 Guardian News & Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. (modern)


Verdana
TrebuchetMS
TimesNewRoman
Courier New
Georgia
Impact
PalatinoLinotype
Tahoma
CenturyGothic
Lucida Sans
Gill Sans
This story was inspired by an incident in the office where I worked in 1964, the story title being the name of a popular British TV series from that year.
To those who claim that 1964 pre-dated 'Take Your Child to Work Day' by a couple of decades, I claim literary licence :p
The Central Accounting Department of the Universal Widget Company took up the whole of the 7th floor of the Dymocks Building. It was here, under the ever watchful eye of Mr Gifford, the Chief Accountant, that no fewer than 50 staff toiled away to ensure that every penny that came in from sales and that went out in expenses could be accounted for.
The Chief Accountant was a man in his late 50s with a bluff and forbidding exterior that hid a bluff and forbidding interior. His style of dress was always conservative - no one had ever seen him wear other than very dark blue suits (with matching waistcoats), plain white shirt and dark red ties (a conscious choice that matched the colour of the upholstery in the House of Lords in London).
While his dress was the epitome of conservatism, Mr Gifford was open to modern ideas in the office. Only last year four electric accounting machines had been introduced to speed up the work of the ledger section. The latter were operated by four young women who scandalised the older male members of the staff (and delighted the younger ones) by wearing knee length skirts, nylon stockings and lipstick. The young women were under the ever watchful eye of Miss Thompson, a dried up old spinster with a pursed mouth which expressed, in the strongest possible terms, her disapproval of anything and everything that was even remotely to do with Modern Society. She strongly suspected her four subordinates of having Loose Morals.
Even though most of the subsidiary ledger work was now done on the four electric accounting machines, the Great General Ledger was still manually posted by hand in a volume of Dickensian proportions, located on a special sloping desk in the main passageway of the open office. It was normally the sole responsibility of Mr Arkell, who had received special permission from Mr Gifford to make his entries with a fountain pen instead of the new-fangled biros which the rest of the staff were now using. The Chief Accountant could hardly wait for the old fart to retire next year so that he could complete the modernisation of his department.
Mr Gifford had also just agreed, as an experiment, to allow some of his staff to bring their children to work one day so that they could see what their fathers did. When approached he had said "Hmm" a few times, puffed on his pipe and then agreed that no more than six staff members could each bring one well behaved child for one day in late April.
Bringing the children to work was, Mr Gifford felt, a good idea because it would help to increase the respect of children for their parents once they understood how hard they worked on their behalf. They might also come to respect the vital role played by the Universal Widget Company in the economy of their country. Who knows, he had finished by saying, but that in years to come it might even become a general institution in the business community.
The date was chosen because it was the first week of the school holidays. One of the chosen six was Mr Spenser, who would be bringing in his 10 year old daughter Jennifer.
Jennifer was very excited at the idea of spending the day at her daddy's office. She could hardly wait, but eventually the appointed day dawned and she set off with him on the tram to the city. She was wearing the pretty pink dress with the big bow at the back that mummy had made for her older cousin's wedding, with long white socks and black patent leather buckle up shoes.
Because it was the rush hour the tram was crowded, and because it was a rule that children should stand and allow an adult to have the seat, daddy said that she could sit on his lap. That was a mistake on daddy's part: his daughter's soft, full bottom pressing into his lap, and her soft, warm rounded thighs astride his legs engendered the sort of feeling that daddies should not have for their daughters. As for Jennifer, after a while she found it hard to get comfortable: there was something hard in daddy's lap that hadn't been there when she first sat on it. Of course all her wriggling around only made the problem worse. When the tram reached the Town Hall stop daddy said that becuase it was moving slowly in the heavy traffic they'd be better off to alight there and walk the remaining couple of blocks.
When they got to the office Mr Spenser, who was one of the accountants, introduced his daughter to Mr Gifford and many of the other members of the staff, including Mr Arkell and Miss Thompson. The latter, never having had any children of her own, harboured the unshakeable belief that all children were naughty and insolent - without exception.
A spare chair was found and placed next to daddy's desk. He explained, as best he could, what he was doing and how his job contributed to the work of the office as a whole. However because Jennifer was still very excited her attention began to drift a bit from the principles of double-entry bookkeeping.
Now one of the junior clerks in the office was young Thomas Steadman (he wasn't called Mr Steadman because he was only 18). Young Tom thought Jennifer was a bit of alright, even though she was only 10, and even though he'd started going out with little Lottie Bains, who delivered the mail to the desks of the staff and did other less important jobs around the office.
Tom thought that he could have a bit of fun with Jennifer, and maybe even feel her up. Today such thoughts, when discovered, would lead to hysterical accusations of pedophilia, but in those days he would have just been told he was chicken stealing and been given a swift kick up the backside.
All that Tom needed was an opportunity, and it came in the form of an order from Mr Arkell. "Tom" said the keeper of the Great General Ledger, holding out a sheaf of papers. "Ask Mr Spenser to have another look at these figures. They don't look right to me. Oh, and I need to get an answer by lunch time" he added.
"Mr Spenser, Mr Arkell wants you to have a look at these figures. He says they don't look right, and he needs to get your answer by lunch time."
"Oh, I see" replied Jennifer's father. He was beginning to feel a bit frazzled by the need to explain things to his daughter and keep up with the work.
"Mr Spenser, shall I show Jennifer the filing room while you're looking at those figures?" The filing room was a separate room in the far corner of the floor. For security reasons it had no windows onto the general office.
"Um, oh yes. Thanks Tom" he replied vacantly, his mind already on accounting matters.
"Danger Man! Danger Man!" squealed Jennifer between giggles, as she ran through the office. Thomas had been tickling her ribs, sides and tummy through her dress and pink nylon petticoat in the filing room. The noise made everyone look up, which is how the whole staff came to witness what happened next.
Jennifer, who wasn't paying much attention to where she was going, almost tripped on a slight bump in the floor. To steady herself she put out a hand to the nearest solid object, which happened to be the special desk on which the Great General Ledger was mounted. It also happened that right at that moment Mr Arkell had an open bottle of ink balanced on the top while he refilled his fountain pen.
Yes, you've guessed it. Jennifer's grab at the desk knocked over the bottle of ink and a river of dark blue flowed down the Great General Ledger.
The Great General Ledger had been defiled!
All talk and activity in the office stopped. In the silence you could have heard a pin drop on the carpeted floor.
Jennifer, whose face was flushed, gave a sheepish little giggle and then fell silent. Young Thomas made himself as inconspicuous as possible.
"Well Miss Spenser, you seem to have made a mess" said Mr Gifford in a very severe tone as he surveyed the scene of the disaster.
"I-I'm sorry Mr Gifford" said Jennifer in a very subdued tone.
"Sorry, are you? Oh yes, you'll be sorry alright" said the Chief Accountant with a look of thunder on his face. "You are going to be punished!"
"Now" said Mr Gifford, turning to his staff. "The question is this: how should this naughty little girl be punished?" There was a general buzz of conversation, with all sorts of ideas being suggested. However none of them seemed to get universal agreement.
"Mr Arkell. You are the one most affected. What is your suggestion?" asked the Chief Accountant of the Universal Widget Company.
"When I was young" he began in a quavery voice, "we got smacked on our bare bums.... I beg your pardon, bottoms, if we did something bad." Miss Thompson suddenly felt a bit faint on hearing the word 'bums'. "She should have her bare bottom smacked" continued the scandalised ledger keeper, giving the cringing little girl a malevolent glare.
"Good idea!" his boss exclaimed. "Mr Spenser, you will smack your daughter on her bare bottom, in front of the whole office."
"But.... I.... um.... err.... " spluttered Jennifer's father, his face as red as a beetroot. After the tram trip this morning the last thing he wanted to see was his daughter's bare bottom. In fact he had never actually seen it; we are talking about a society in which fathers never, ever attended to such things as the bathing of their children.
"Very well" thundered Mr Gifford. "I will do it!" This announcement was greeted with gasps of astonishment: it was known that Mr Gifford had not been blessed by fatherhood. "Child, bend over your father's desk!"
"But Mr Gifford.... I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean it. I'll be a good girl now" Jennifer sobbed. The prospect of having her bare bottom seen by all these strangers, and having it smacked, was definitely not appealing.
"Do not argue with me child!" the Chief Accountant said in a very menacing voice.
Finally, after a bit more hesitation, and some glowering by Mr Gifford, she bent herself over the edge of the desk. He advanced on the sniffling little girl and, holding her down with one large hand in the middle of her back, lifted the back of her pretty pink dress up with the other and bundled it around her waist.
There was a general low muttering from the staff who were gathered around the desk, craning their necks to try to get a view of this most unusual event. Miss Thompson gave a gasp of shock: instead of the decent woollen drawers that all Proper Young Ladies should wear, the child had on a pair of cotton knickers. Really! she thought; what a depraved hussy the mother must be to allow such a thing.
Further general low muttering accompanied the pulling down of Jennifer's knickers. Miss Thompson turned her head away, at first. Many of the male members of the staff experienced a stirring of the loins, for the first time in many years for some of them. Mr Gosper, who had a secret collection of dirty postcards, thought it wasn't a bad looking little bottom at all.
Mr Spenser didn't want to look at his daughter's bare bottom. He was afraid that if he did he would be gripped by unnatural desires, as he had been in the tram. Actually it wasn't so much the unnatural desires in themselves, but the fact that they might become evident to anyone who looked at the front of his trousers.
As for Jennifer, she went scarlet in the face with the realisation that her bare bottom was sticking up in the air and that many pairs of eyes were looking at it and, worse, that most of those eyes belonged to men. Hadn't mummy told her never to let strangers, apart from the doctor, see her bottom and her private parts? Hadn't her Auntie Mabel said that there were lots of bad men who were always trying to look at the bottoms and private parts of little girls?
Slap! went Mr Gifford's big hand on Jennifer's bare bottom, bringing her back to the here and now in no uncertain way.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went the big hard hand again.
"Owww! Owww! Owww!" shrieked Jennifer again. "That hurt" she sobbed.
"It was meant to, you naughty little girl. You are being punished for defiling the Great General Ledger."
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went Mr Gifford's hand again. Angry red marks were beginning to appear on the soft, pale skin of the little girl's bottom.
"Owww! please stop" she wailed. "I'm sorry." But her punisher was deaf to all entreaties.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! and more red marks appeared.
"P-please s-stop M-Mr G-Gifford" the child sobbed pitifully.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! The Chief Accountant finally stepped back. He felt a little strange and his face was flushed. There was a stirring in his loins, and he didn't mind it at all.
"Now child, pull your knickers back up, and let that be a lesson to you! The rest of you, get back to work!"
As the crowd dispersed little Lottie Bains took the sobbing child by the hand and led her off to the Ladies Rest Room, where she washed her face, brushed her hair and fixed up her disarrayed clothes.
Mr Spenser took Jennifer home. Even though there were now plenty of seats she expressed a strong preference to stand all the way in the tram. As soon as they arrived she lay, face down, on her bed to have a good cry, but this changed to quiet sniffling when she noticed that the heat from her bottom had spread to o
Shemale Teens Compilation
Www Stoloto Ru Private
Energy Tube 18
Www Lesbians Me
Brawl Stars Private Server Hack
incest – Stories In The Closet
Ten of the best books on incestuous relationships | Books ...
Loliwood Studios: Child Erotica at its Best
Forced To Fuck The Family Dog! - Payhip
Incest Films Not Yet Seen - IMDb
Rape Victim Stories: Real Stories of Being Raped ...
A woman describes her sexual relationship with her ...
Cartoons XXX gratis - de búsqueda - Yahoo
Laura's Execution | ExecutionStories Wikia | Fandom
Forced Incest Erotica