by Ami Snow
“Get the fuck back on that bench, you dirty little whore.”
Sandra got on all fours without being told, and hiked the flowing hem of her skirt over her waist, scrunching up the fabric in a ball and stuffing it in her mouth. Slowly, she crawled towards the sinister steel bench, the thick, fleshy curves of her bubble-shaped cheeks jiggling with each step she took. She snuck furtive, yearning glances at Tate as he rubbed the bulge of his erection through his dress pants.
“Good fucking slut, giving Daddy what he wants.”
Tate hoisted her onto the bench, face down, Sandra wincing at the sudden friction between her arms and the cool, leathery cushion. He shackled her arms together in front of her as she leaned forward, her back arching on the inclined surface, and roped her legs together behind her. Sandra craned her neck, peeking at Tate, yelping as he stunned her with an open-palm smack across her face. She moaned, the sopping folds between her legs contracting, her cheek numbing.
“I didn't say you could look at me, slut. Keep your eyes forward.”
Sandra submitted, staring straight ahead as Tate attached the rope around her hands to a dangling bell on the ceiling. He loosened his silver silk tie, draping it over her eyes, tightening the knots behind her blindfold. She panted, spots swirling in her pitch-black vision, wheezing out her mouth as he stuffed a crumpled, damp cloth in her mouth, stifling her cries.
Tate peeled off his pants and brushed off the buttons to his dress shirt, translucent through his pouring sweat, his thick erection aching as it throbbed in his fingers. He leaned over, pushing his face close to the crotch of her pantyhose, the pungent, musky aroma wafting out of her folds. He rubbed his fingers against the slick, lubricated sheerness drenching through her pantyhose, grunting noisily under his breath as he ripped a small hole, revealing her wet, pulsing hole.
“No panties,” smirked Tate, gritting his teeth as he shred off the rest of her pantyhose with his fingers, “You little slut.”
Sandra arched her back in excitement, writhing and convulsing pathetically in her petrified state. She gnawed at the balled up cloth in her drooling mouth, squeaking helplessly as Tate grabbed hold of one cheek in one hand, his fingernails clawing into the creases of her flesh, slapping her other cheek with his free hand. Disoriented, she shrieked in surprise as a glob of scorching heat seeped into the flesh of her back, her thighs trembling uncontrollably.
Tate stood above her, his sleeves rolled up and speckled with splotches of red wax, holding a flickering flame against the melting candle, a beautiful, raw, hardened mosaic, flowering on her back, the splashes of reds and oranges tainting the canvas of her flawless flesh. He watched as she wriggled and thrashed, her vulnerability almost too much for him to handle. He wanted to see more – her sweet, naïve expressions contorting to agonized grimaces of pain, the way she looked at him meaningfully with desperate, tearful eyes, simply understanding how much she needed to be punished.
He reached over for a clothespin-clamp, clinching it against her nipple. He bit his lip, watching her squirm, her muffled yelps invigorating his throbbing cock, once again lifting the thawing candle above her. Sandra tugged forward with her hands, the golden bell jingling above her. Tate blew out the candle and chucked it to the side, shoving the full length of his cock between her folds as she shivered turbulently, his fingernails burrowing into the flesh of her full, wobbling stomach. He thrusted hard, his cock easily, noisily slipping in and out, stretching her gloriously tight crevice as he held her face down against the cushion of the bench in a pool of her drool. He groaned under his breath, pulling out, splattering his hot, sticky mess all over her back and legs.
Tate quickly undid her blindfolds and restraints, handing her a clean towel as he threw on his clothes rapidly, panting. He wiped off the sweat on his forehead with the slip of his tie, glancing over at Sandra as she lurched forward clumsily, shedding off the tatters of her pantyhose. She looked up at him questioningly. Tate glanced behind him as he stalked out the room.
“I'll be right back.”
Chapter Eight –
“Are you okay, Sandra? You look kinda sweaty.”
Sandra choked, drops of iced tea sputtering from her lips as she set her glass on Coraline's bedside table. Coraline tilted her head, rumpling her brow, studying Sandra's strange, twitchy behavior – there was a flushed glow to her cheeks, her hair was freshly brushed, and her plait neatly braided, yet the violet ribbon was missing. Her eyes narrowed, stripping a yellow blob of wax from the back of her dress.
“What's this?” inquired Coraline, rolling the wax into a ball with her fingertips.
“Oh, that's nothing,” muttered Sandra, flicking the wax out of Coraline's fingers.
“Okay,” said Coraline, her eyebrows raised, “Where'd you go, anyway? You missed KewlCat – it was the episode where they go fight a team of cow ninjas!”
“Darn,” grinned Sandra, swinging her fist theatrically, “That does sound like a good episode. Maybe I'll catch the replay.”
“Maybe,” shrugged Coraline, flopping down on her stomach, flinging her legs in the air. She lifted the remote towards the screen, turning up the volume, “If it shows again.”
“So tell me – how'd your tryouts for the Little League go?”
Coraline jumped up excitedly, tucking her legs beneath her. She grinned gleefully, announcing proudly, “I made the team! And it was awesome – there's this other girl named Amanda, she watches KewlCat too! I'm gonna go over to her house next week for our first play date, and guess what? She doesn't even own a barbie!”
Sandra beamed, basking in the little girl's newfound enthusiasm, “I'm so happy, Coraline, I –”
Coraline reached towards her and clamped Sandra's hand with her small, warm fingers, “And it's all 'cause of you, Sandra. Thanks a lot for convincing Dad to let me drop out of ballet class. I was miserable there.”
“Aw, Coraline, I –”
“You're never leaving, right?”
Sandra's mouth dropped open, breathing heavily, “I'm –”
“Sandra, can I speak with you? Hey, Coraline.”
Tate shambled into Coraline's room, his usually dapper hair falling over his tired, narrowed eyes. He cleared his throat, waiting as Sandra and Coraline gaped at the hollowed expression on his face, fixing his collar as he attempted to improve his haggard appearance. Sandra rose from the bed, stroking Coraline's hair affectionately.
“I'll be right back, yeah? Tell me all about what KewlCat gets up to in this episode later.”
“Sure, Sandra. Bye, Dad.”
“Bye, sweetheart.”
Sandra followed Tate to his study, closing the door behind her. She jerked backwards, wincing, as he hurled his fist against his door, leaving an indented crack in the wood. He swore under his breath, rubbing his stinging fist furiously against the side of his crinkled dress shirt, bloody track marks leaching through the polar white fabric. Sandra scooted past his menacing, seething build, towards his collection of premium bottled hard liquors and clear, crystal glasses. Her fingers hovered over the indistinguishable bottles unsurely, finally settling on one which she deemed had the fanciest label. She corked open the bottle of liquor and poured it into a glass, handing it to Tate.
“Thanks,” muttered Tate, accepting the glass from Sandra, and chugged it dry.
“Would you like another one?”
“No,” growled Tate, pacing across his room.
He reached into his pocket, propelling a fleeting blur of silver towards his desk. It bounced off onto the ground, silently clattering by Sandra's toes. It was Renee's engagement ring. She picked it up and placed it gingerly upon his desk. She rested her folded arms on her stomach, waiting.
“That lying cunt – five fucking years down the drain,” grumbled Tate, pulling up his swiveling chair. He cradled his head in his hands, continuing, “How could I have been so blind –”
“If it makes you feel any better,” said Sandra softly, gnawing on her bottom lip, “Hindsight's always t
wenty-twenty.”
Tate shriveled in his chair, sighing deeply. He glanced up at Sandra with reddening eyes, his age and immortality shining through for the first time. He lamented, running his hands through his hair, “It's not even about the money. If she wanted fucking money, she could've simply asked. It's the lying, the deceit – I've been through enough to know better. It's no one's fault but my own.”
Sandra took a deep breath, ready to unleash the riveting speech she had conjured up in her head. She wanted to debilitate Renee's name further, drenching it across mud and dirt, to tell him he was far better off without the leeching succubus in his life. Instead she blinked, biting her tongue, peering into the crushed defeat exuding through his dimmed green eyes. She knew exactly what he needed. Tate watched in silence, confounded, as Sandra disappeared behind his bookcase. His forehead crinkled, peering into the darkness. After long, agonizing beats of impatience, she emerged from the shadows. He breathed out his mouth, gripping the armrests of his chair.
Sandra crawled towards him, completely naked, her plait dangling off the side of her shoulder. His eyes zoomed in on the glinting, studded collar around her neck, a long, leather leash trailing behind her. The tip of his moistening cock began to tickle his zipper, unable to tear his eyes away from her innocently devious eyes. She bent further down, the plump mounds of her breasts and her ample stomach grazing against the dark wood of the floor, closing in on the medallion tips of his dress shoes. She looked up at him, peering intently into his eyes, licking her luscious red lips.
“I'll be your toy, Daddy Donahue. Your wish is my command.”
THE END
Bad Boy Tease
Stepbrother Romance
By: Amanda Bolton
Bad Boy Tease
Chapter 1
Casey stared out the window, as she anticipated the arrival of her soon to be step dad. Henry had seemed nice when she heard her mom talk about him, but she never had the actual chance to meet him until today. Granted she secretly admitted that she had had no interest in the beginning to meet the man of her mom’s dreams. Her dad had been the only one who had understood her, so she was not trying to replace him as quickly as her mom was.
“Casey! Henry will be here soon,” her mom called from downstairs as she refrained from rolling her eyes. Of course she knew this, that’s all she had been hearing for the past few hours.
“I know mom, I’ll be down in a second!” she called out and continued gazing out the window while painting the rest of her toes with the yellow polish.
A grey SUV pulled up a few moments later as she was applying the second coat and stood up to peer closer through the window. Was that him?
A tall man stepped out in a pinstripe suit with slicked back chestnut hair. He wasn’t bad looking, maybe a little older than what Casey had imagined but she figured he must have been someone of importance for the way he carried himself.
Sighing, she stood up and rushed downstairs before her mom could call her name again. The last thing she wanted today was a lecture.
“You look nice mom,” Casey reassured her mom as she adjusted her top and opened the door with a smile.
“Hello Henry,” she kissed his cheek as he kissed hers back and smiled down at her. The man had to be at least six three!
“You must be Casey yes?” Henry stooped down some to look her in the eye.
“Yes,” she replied and shook his hand as he smiled. So far so good.
“And you must be Paul,” my mother said as Henry stepped away and revealed a younger man who looked to be a few years older than me. My mom hadn’t mentioned Henry already having a son…
“Yes, ma’am,” he shook her hand while regarding me with a smile.
“Casey,” he shook my hand as I tried to contain the blush that was trying to cover my cheeks. This man was one of the most handsome I had ever laid eyes on. He was about six foot with sandy blonde hair and dark blue eyes a strong jaw and cheekbones that radiated with his smile.
“Hi,” I smiled back and turned quietly as my mom led them into the house and the three began talking about something.
The only thing I could think of was why my mom hadn’t mentioned that this man had a son already or why he was so damn attractive!
Chapter 2
“Mom,” Casey began as she was able to get her mother in the kitchen alone for a moment.
“Yes sweetie?” she was mixing up the salad for dinner.
“Why didn’t you tell me he had a son?”
“I thought I had,” she frowned, “Paul just finished his sophomore year at Cal Poly, so this is the first time for me to meet him as well.”
Well when she put it like that it made a bit more sense Casey thought… he was a junior! Jeez, she was just about to begin her freshman year at Michigan State in the fall.
“Oh, well he seems nice,” she trailed, unsure of what else to say.
“Yes, he is a gentleman like his dad,” she giggled and went out to put the food on the table.
Casey grabbed a glass of water and drank it slowly while Paul walked in and stopped when he saw his soon to be step-sister. Did she know that their parents wanted to get married? Probably so, if not she would find out tonight when they made the announcement at dinner.
“So what college are you attending in the fall Casey?” Paul asked to get some kind of conversation going with the young girl.
She flipped her hazelnut hair back, “Michigan State, I want to do engineering.”
She must be really smart then; he mused and grabbed some napkins off the counter before going back to help set the table.
Casey followed Paul into the dining room as she saw her mom and Henry were already sitting down.
“Shall we eat?” her mother asked as they began to dig into the chicken and pasta.
It didn’t take long before Henry cleared his throat after a lighthearted conversation and said, “I don’t know if everyone knows why we decided to have dinner tonight.”
Casey looked at her mom, unaware of what was going on as her mom smiled back at Henry with pure love.
“Angela and I,” he brimmed with pride when taking her hand, “are going to get married.”
Casey’s jaw dropped slightly before she pulled it back up and held back her words. She should be happy for her mom, but how could she just move on from her father’s death like that so quickly?
“Congratulations,” Paul spoke gleefully while casting a glance at Casey. She seemed to be radiating a bunch of emotions at the moment and had no idea how to react.
“Thank you Paul,” Angela acknowledged him before looking at her daughter as well. “Casey?”
She said nothing before standing up and leaving the table abruptly. Angela sighed, she knew her daughter wasn’t going to take the news very well, but she didn’t know how else to prepare her. It had been four years since her husband had died and she was ready to move on with her life. Everything with Henry had just fallen into place when she met him.
“I’ll be right back,” she apologized and went up the stairs to go check on Casey.
“Honey,” she knocked on the door as Casey just sat on her bed, letting the tears fall.
“How could you mom!” she cried into the pillow as her mom sat down on the edge of her bed and rubbed her shoulder.
“Casey…” she started but wasn’t sure how to console her daughter. This whole process hadn’t been easy for her.
“Why are you replacing him?” she whispered.
“I’m not replacing him,” Angela gasped and made Casey look at her. “I will never love another man like your father… but I don’t want to grow old alone once you go off to college.”
“You could always move in with grandma,” Casey started softly.
“I could,” her mom acknowledged, “but you and I both know I can only stand my mom as much as you can stand me. Think of this marriage as… a lifetime commitment with a best friend?”
“That you love,” she huffed and tried to dry her eyes.
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“Yes,” her mother said nothing else as she retreated downstairs and waited for Casey to follow. She just had to come around, for everyone’s sakes.
“Sorry,” she spoke to the men as they looked up and gave sympathetic looks.
“Would it be alright if I talked to her?” Paul spoke up, “I know she has only heard of me since today… but I probably understand her situation a little bit better.”
Angela nodded and watched as Paul retreated upstairs to check in on Casey.
Casey heard a knock on her door and said nothing as it opened and Paul stuck his head in.
“What do you want?” she asked without looking up at him.
“Just to talk?” he said innocently and walked in with his hands up slightly.
Casey scooted over for him to sit down on her bed as he took in her upset expression. He knew what it was like to lose a parent, and he knew that this was probably coming as a shock to her more than anything else.