by Jefferson James
It was well after midnight when Angie returned. She had been drinking heavily. She went straight to her room and locked the door. I gave her a few minutes. Maybe she had to relieve herself. Then, knocking loudly, I told her to unlock the door. She didn’t answer.
“Unlock the door,” I repeated. “If I have to kick it in, you are going to have a hell of a time explaining it to my dad.”
The lock clicked. Opening the door, I stepped into the room. Angie was sitting on the edge of the bed. She gave me this bleary-eyed look and sneered.
“Show me,” she said, lifting her sweater, exposing her right breast with its freshly pierced nipple. “That’s what you’re going to say, isn’t it?”
Her words were slurred, and she wove back and forth with drunkenness. Pulling her bra from her purse, she tossed it aside and then fished out a long, thin, velvet covered box.
“Here,” she said, thrusting it into my hand. “I’m going to sleep. If you want sex, help yourself.”
Pulling up her skirt and spreading her legs, she flopped over onto her back. I was tempted, but I don’t like drunks. I slapped her pussy, and she yelped. She tried to sit up, but couldn’t.
“What the hell was that for?” she asked, rubbing herself.
“I just want to make sure you’re paying attention,” I said, lowering my face close to hers. “That was nothing compared to what I’ll do to you if you ever get drunk again. I don’t fuck drunks, and you are mine to fuck anytime I want, understand?”
“Don’t forget it,” I said, swatting her newly pierced nipple.
She squealed and her hand shot from the pussy to her tit. As she laid there whimpering in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks, I turned and left, slamming the door.
The next morning I went to her room. She was in the shower. When she came out, I was waiting for her just outside the bathroom door. Instinctively she covered her nakedness. Her eyes nervously shifted from me, to her bed, and back again.
“Not now,” she said, trying to sound as if she was in control of the situation. “I’m already late for my tennis lesson.”
“I know,” I smiled. “I checked your appointment calendar.”
I took her nipple leash out of my pocket and dangled it in front of her face. She looked at it like it was a hypnotist’s watch. She stood perfectly still for several seconds, then slowly lowered her arms to her side, saying “It’s still tender.”
“Then I guess you better behave,” I told her, attaching the leash.
She followed close as I led her to the foot of the bed, not wanting any tension on the chain. Her face was a picture of dread. She was beginning to accept her new role in life, but wasn’t at all comfortable with it. She tried to look me in the eyes, but then quickly averted her gaze, saying, “I’m going to be late.”
Sitting down, I patted the spot beside me. She sat. Nervously, she crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes were closed, and she was shivering slightly. Maybe it was because she was cold and wet, but I don’t think so. The anguished look on her face convinced me it was apprehension.
I pulled gently on her shoulder. She shuddered, and then reclined, lying on her back in the exact spot she had been the night before. My hand moved to her thigh and pulled gently. Her knees remained tightly pressed together. I pulled again, slightly harder this time. Slowly, grudgingly, she spread her legs.
“Your calendar also says you are going out for drinks with the girls after your tennis lesson,” I said, unfastening the leash from her nipple ring. “Do you remember last night? You were lying here just like this. Do you remember what I said?”
“After your tennis lesson and your little luncheon, your calendar is clear for the rest of the day. Be home no later than three o’clock, and be sober.”
I leaned forward, moving my face between her legs. In spite of the fact she had just gotten out of the shower, her cunt had the strong, musky aroma of sex. It thought it was getting fucked, and was responding accordingly, secreting it’s natural lubricants.
I sucked her clit hard into my mouth and rubbed it firmly with the flat of my tongue, intentionally over stimulating it. Angie gasped, her back arching.
“…no later than three o’clock, and be sober,” I repeated.
As I stood up and walked out of her bedroom, she nodded.
It was precisely three o’clock when Angie returned. She was wearing a white pullover sweater, and a short, white, tennis skirt, showing off her lovely long legs. As I looked her up and down, she set her gym bag and racquet down on the hall table and fidgeted, running her fingers through her black, feathered hair.
She hesitated for a moment. Then, as nonchalantly as she could, she headed for the stairway.
“Come here,” I said, crooking my finger.
She stopped, turned, and gave me a weak smile.
“I need a shower,” she said, her voice seemingly firm, but with an underlying tone of uncertainty.
My eyes lowered to where her hands were uneasily smoothing her tennis skirt. She must have known what I was thinking. Trying her best not to look panic-stricken, she moved her hands to the banister and turned to go. At the sound of my voice, she froze and the color drained out of her face. I could tell she was debating whether or not to pretend she hadn’t heard me say, “Show me.”
“I need a shower,” she repeated.
I repeated myself too, motioning for her to come closer.
Descending slowly, the few steps she had climbed, she moved to the end of dining room table, opposite of where I as sitting. She wasn’t behaving submissively, but she wasn’t being belligerent either. She seemed to be trying her best not to anger me or start an argument.
“We have the rest of the afternoon and evening,” she said, softly, trying to sound romantic rather than subservient. “I’ll take a shower. Fix us something to drink. It can be non-alcoholic if that’s what you want. Come to my room in five or ten minutes, and then we can…”
Her voice trailed off.
“Fuck?” I asked.
She closed her eyes and nodded. She tried to hide it, but I saw the same dread I had seen before. I wanted to toy with her a little longer, but I had already guessed why she was being evasive.
There would be other times to taunt her. She was a proud woman and wouldn’t become inured soon. I was the cat and she was the mouse. This fancy house, her love for my father, his power and wealth were her corner. She was my plaything as long as the paw of scandal was poised over her head.
I knew how important it was that she fear me, that she didn’t try to cross me, that she knew she couldn’t fool me. I got up from my seat and walked toward her. I could just barely detect that she was trembling. She wanted to run, but knew it would only make things worse. She knew that I knew what she didn’t want me to know.
“You’re wearing panties, aren’t you?” I asked, staring directly into her big, brown eyes.
“I had to,” she replied, her eyes not daring to stray from mine. “I was playing tennis. I’ll take them off in the car next time. I promise.”
“That would still be contrary to our agreement,” I said, taking her leash from my pocket. “Give me your nipple.”
She didn’t say anything, but I could see the fear in her eyes.
“It won’t happen again,” she said, first lifting her sweater and then her sports bra. I promise.”
I attached the leash to her tit ring and smiled, telling her, “Yes it will. And each time it does you’ll pay the price. I promise.”
“How?” she asked, as I led her back to where I had been sitting.
Ignoring her question, I told her, “The longer you’re wearing those, the more you’re going to pay.”
As she hurriedly removed her panties, I sat down. She was afraid – real afraid. She didn’t know what I was going to do, and that seemed to be what scared her the most. She held her panties behind her back as if she thought I would forget about them if I didn’t see them. I used the leash to maneuver her between me and the table.
“Lie down,” I said, patting the tabletop.
Sitting down, she laid back, gasping as the cold wood made contact with her naked back. I eased her legs apart and kissed the insides of her thighs. She took her sweater and bra the rest of the way off, and used them for a pillow.
Working back and forth, kissing and licking, I worked my way gradually up her thighs, stopping just inches from her pussy. I know she was loathing the touch of my tongue on her pussy. As I got closer and closer, I could feel her tensing up. Moving my face so close that I knew she could feel my breath, I blew gently on her cunt lips and asked her, “Have you ever been fucked in the ass?”
“What?” she gasped, struggling to sit up.
I raised my hand and brought it down hard, slapping her pussy. I hit her so hard, my hand stung. Screaming, she tried to get away from me. She covered her pussy with her hands and closed her legs, trying to roll onto her side.
“Lie still,” I ordered, tugging on her leash. “You fight me, and you’ll pay. Now open your legs and answer the question.”
“What question?” she asked, hesitantly opening her legs and removing the protective shielding of her hands.
I raised my hand to pussy slap her again. Her reflexes got the best of her, and her hands shot between her legs in an attempt to protect herself.
“Yes,” she said, quickly withdrawing her hands. “…once or twice. …maybe three times. Why?”
Leaning forward, I thrust my tongue into her pussy. It took her by surprise and she moaned loudly. For several seconds, I continued lapping at her cunt. After the initial shock, she laid quietly, denying any pleasure she felt.
“I’m going to give you a choice,” I said, massaging her clit with my thumb. “You can either take a pussy spanking, or have your asshole raped.”
“…raped?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What do you mean?”
“No lube,” I said, grinning at her. “…just rammed and reamed.”
It only took her a fraction of a second to make up her mind. She closed her eyes and open her legs a little wider.
“…the spanking,” she whimpered. I’ll take the spanking.”
When I stood up and began removing my belt, her eyes opened. Realizing what I was doing, they opened even wider. The wider her eyes opened, the more her legs closed. Now she was more than scared, she was terrified.
“I thought you were going to use your hand,” she said, her voice shaking badly.
Doubling the belt over in my hand, I laughed at her and said, “It’s not too late to change your mind. You can either spread your legs, or turn over.”
She bit her lower lip so hard I thought she was going to draw blood. Her legs opened, and her eyes closed.
“…ten lashes,” I told her. “Put you hands behind your head. Each time you close your legs or try to protect your pussy in any way, you get two more – one on each tit. If you get off the table, I’ll not only rape your asshole, I’ll beat your twat until you bleed, understand?”
Her hands slid under her head and she nodded. I drew my arm back, swinging as hard as I could. She jumped nearly six inches into the air as the sound of the belt hitting my chair reached her ears.
“Oh God,” she whimpered.
I hadn’t hit her, but from the look on her face, you would have thought I had. I have to give her credit. She was shaking like a leaf, but she kept her legs open. I swung again, not as hard as before, but this time I hit her squarely between the legs. She jumped. She cried. Her legs stayed open.
“One,” I said, drawing back again.
She took a deep breath and braced herself. I let her stew for a few seconds. Her entire body quaked with anticipation. Tears streamed from her eyes. The belt flew; harder this time. She screamed and twisted slightly to one side, but she kept her legs spread.
Reaching out, I gently stroked her thigh. Her pussy was bright red and swollen. I felt her relax, and I hit her again, counting off two and three. I gave her three more in rapid succession; each harder than the one before. She let out one long, agonized cry.
“That makes five,” I told her. “You’re halfway there. Are you ready for round two?”
She stalled for as long as she thought she could, then nodded. I gave her another three; one after the other. Her elbows tightened around her head as if she was trying to protect her ears from her own screams. Her knees jerked and she fought her reflexes with every once of strength she had.
“Eight,” I said, swinging again before she had a chance to recover.
I hit her hard. Harder than any of the other times. Almost as hard as I had hit the chair. This time, her reflexes got the best of her. She rolled onto her side and her legs snapped shut. The scream that ripped from her throat didn’t even sound human.
“Nine,” I said, patting her ass. “You have at least three more coming. …one on each tit, and one more between the legs. The longer I have to wait, the harder it’s going to be on you.”
Somehow, she forced herself to roll onto her back. Her legs fell open. Her thighs tensed. The belt swished through the air. At the last instant, I jerked my wrist. The belt snapped like a bullwhip on her left nipple. Her upper body jerked.
I cracked the belt again, this time connecting with her clit. She howled, and gritted her teeth. Her legs went limp.
“Just one more,” I said, dragging the belt up her firm, flat belly. “You’re right nipple is still sore from being pierced, isn’t it?”
She nodded and cringed. I gave her several seconds to prepare. She took a deep breath. I caressed the side of her face with the belt. She swallowed hard. I took the very tip of the belt and swatted her nipple as lightly as I could, saying, “No panties.”
As I helped her off the table, she rubbed her left tit with one hand, and her pussy with the other, asking, “Can I go upstairs now?”
“Only for a minute or two,” I told her, fluffing up her clothing as if it were a pillow. “I haven’t fucked you yet. If you want, you can put some cream, lotion, or whatever on your boo boos. Don’t worry, I won’t pound your pussy too hard. I can be gentle too.”
She started up the stairs, then stopped. As she looked at me, I knew she wanted to say something, but the words were sticking in her throat. She glanced at the dining room table where she had just taken her pussy spanking, then said in a hushed voice, “We’d be more comfortable upstairs.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I grinned. “Besides, Marta is due back from the store in a half hour. I’ll meet you in my room in five minutes. Fucking my stepmother in my own bed will be almost as kinky as doing it on the dining room table.”
She started to say something, then stopped, the started again, saying, “I’d rather…”
“It doesn’t matter what you want, I’m in charge,” I reminded her. “Go to your room and shoot some lube up your butt. When I come up, I expect you to be on my bed with your legs spread and your ass in the air.”
Again, she started to say something, then stopped. The look on her face told the whole story. She felt betrayed.
“I’m not going to rape your asshole,” I said, smiling. “I’m going to fuck it nice and slow.”
When I went into my room, Angie was on the bed just as I had told her to be. She was hugging my pillow and had her head turned away, hiding the humiliated look I knew was on her face. Her legs were spread wide, her butt was in the air, and her asshole was wet and shiny with Vaseline.
“You feel like a slut, don’t you?” I asked, climbing onto the bed behind her.
She didn’t answer.
I reached between her legs and gingerly rubbed her pussy. She flinched, but remained silent. I singled out one pubic hair from the rest and yanked it out. She yelped.
“Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, I feel like a slut. Are you happy?”
I pressed my hardon against her asshole. Her sphincter tightened, then relaxed. Guiding my dick with my hand, I moved it in a circular motion, coating its head thoroughly with Vaseline. I pressed forward again. Her asshole remained relaxed this time, and the head of my dick slipped into her butt.
“Has my dad ever had his dick up your ass?” I asked, pulling back out of her.
“That’s none of your business,” she said, her voice shaking.
I don’t know if it was shaking from anger, humiliation, or pain, but I found it stimulating.
“Everything concerning your sex life is now my business,” I said, gently easing myself back into her quivering ass. “Answer the question or I’ll ream you hard and fast.”
Quickly nodding her head, she groaned and said, “Yes, but it was over a year ago. …back when we were first dating.”
I laughed and started working my hips back and forth, fucking into her butt with short, slow strokes.
“You let him come in the backdoor until he married you,” I said, thrusting faster and deeper. “Once you had what you wanted, money and social standing, you little butthole became off-limits. Is that right?”
“No,” she moaned, responding to the deeper penetration. “I don’t let him do it anymore because it’s hurts.”
“It doesn’t hurt anymore now than it did then,” I said, gripping her hips and stabbing into her to make my point. “You just tolerated the pain because you wanted to marry a rich man. You took it up the ass for money. That means you were a whore. Now you think you’re a lady and too good to have a dick up your butt. In order to keep his money, you’re letting me, your stepson, shove my dick up your butt. You’re taking it up the ass for money. You’re no lady. You’re a whore. A butt-fucking whore. A hired hole.”
The longer I talked, the louder my voice got, and the harder I fucked her. Before long, she had to brace herself against the headboard to keep from banging her head. As I skewered her, she bawled like a baby.
I know getting it in the butt hurts a little, but I don’t think that had anything to do with it. She had plenty of lube. Her asshole was tight, but no tighter than that girl I had dated, and she didn’t cry the one time I made her take it in the ass. Angie was crying because she knew I was right. She was a whore.
“I’m going to cum on your face, whore,” I said, riding her faster and faster, fucking her harder and harder and harder, drilling her deeper and deeper. “When I pull out, you turn your face this way or I’ll give you a cunt spanking you’ll never forget.”
Angie didn’t say a word. But a minute or so later, when I yanked my dick out of her upturned ass, her face was right where it should be. My dick nearly exploded. The first blast struck her forehead and ran down the side of her nose to her upper lip. The next splattered on her eyelid and streamed down her cheek mixed with her tears. The rest I shot onto that sexy mouth of hers, using my dick to smear it all over her full, pouting lips.
“Go wash your face,” I told her, as I headed for my own bathroom. “Ernie will be here in a few minutes. If you don’t want to give him any ideas, you might want to wash your asshole too. He’s dying to fuck his favorite White woman again. He just might knock on your backdoor if you leave the welcome mat out.”
When Ernie showed up, he went straight to my stepmother’s room. It was over an hour before he came out again. He was grinning from ear to ear and carrying her nipple leash. In her haste to wash her butt, she must have forgotten about it.
“Nice touch,” he said, tossing it to me.
We both laughed. Then moving to the kitchen, we started trying to think of a way to get Claudia, the French exchange student who was spending the school year with Ernie’s family.
The End of Chapter Two
(c) Copyright March 1999 by Jefferson James. All rights reserved. No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except for a single copy, by and for the person reading this notice, for private reading.