by Selena Kitt
Becca buried her face in her arms as he smacked her bottom again and again, her skin completely exposed, her black thong no protection against the blows, trying not to cry. It hurt—a lot—and her thighs trembled as she sprawled across the table, trying to get away, but she was trapped. Duncan punished her silently, but she heard him breathing hard behind her after the last slap of his belt had fallen.
“I’m sorry.” His words were soft, almost a caress. And then, oh then, he touched her. His hand moved lightly over the surface of her red and stinging behind, the best salve in the world. Becca moaned softly and arched without thinking. She heard his sharp intake of breath when she did, and then he was pressed against her, pushing her hips into the table edge.
“Becca, you have to promise me you’ll never go out of the house dressed like this again.” His voice was low, strained.
She sniffed, nodding, wiping her face—she couldn’t help her tears after all—willing to promise him anything. Anything. “Okay.”
“You are…” He cleared his throat, his hand moving in her hair, across the bare skin of her neck, through the valley of her shoulder blades. “You’re a beautiful girl. You don’t need all this…”
Becca gasped as his hands, both of them, moved to her hips, not just caressing but gripping, pulling her close. His crotch was right up against her ass, and she felt him. He was hard. So very hard.
And then he let her go, stepping away, turning around as he began to thread his belt through the loops in his jeans again.
“Go wash that junk off your face.”
Still shaking, she did just as she was told, stripping down in the bathroom, taking off everything, including the thong and the heels. She got into a hot shower and scrubbed herself as if she couldn’t get clean enough. Her skin reddened under the treatment, growing almost as red as her still-stinging behind.
She looked in the mirror when she got out, inspecting the damage. No skin was broken, no bruises. Her bottom was just hot and pink. She ran a hand over it, caressing herself the way Duncan had, and shivered. She’d seen the look on his face, had felt the steel-hard press of his cock against her.
Leaving all her clothes in the bathroom on the floor, she wrapped herself in a towel and went to her room. Downstairs, she heard the TV on and the sound of Duncan banging around the kitchen, cooking something for dinner. It was like nothing had happened—except that her ass burned, and so did her cheeks.
And her pussy.
Her pussy was on fire.
Becca crawled into her bed, the towel falling away, the air on her skin cooling her hot, burning flesh. She buried her face into the coolness of her pillow as she stretched out on her belly, unable to stop herself from sliding a hand between her still trembling thighs. Her pussy was soaking wet, her clit thrumming under her fingers as she started to rub it. Closing her eyes, she remembered everything—the way he looked at her, the feel of his cock, so fucking big and hard against her crotch, his hands gripping her hips like he wanted to fuck her right then and there. Had he wanted to? she wondered.
She wished he had.
“Oh Duncan,” she whispered, rubbing her little clit as fast as she could. She was so ready to come. Even in spite of the pain of her spanking, the way the belt had caught her sometimes had nearly sent her over the edge toward orgasm. She imagined him behind her, his cock pounding her pussy, and that thought alone would have been enough, but then she remembered how he looked at her standing bent over the kitchen table in her tiny little pink skirt, her tits on the table, her legs spread, and that sent her flying.
“Fuck!” she moaned, her clit throbbing under her fingers as her climax overtook her. “Oh fuck! I’m gonna come all over your hard fucking cock! Yes! Yes!”
She shuddered and rocked on the bed, burying her face in the pillow to keep from screaming at the force of it. It wasn’t like she hadn’t masturbated imagining Duncan fucking her before, but he’d never looked at her like he had today. That look of lust in his eyes made it more intense somehow—knowing he wanted her.
Becca sighed softly, turning her cheek, looking for a cool spot on the pillow, and that’s when she saw the look in his eyes again, and it wasn’t just in her imagination—Duncan was standing in the doorway. She was too surprised to do anything. She didn’t even move to cover herself.
He cleared his throat. “Dinner’s ready.”
Then he was gone, back downstairs, and Becca finally moved to get dressed, a little too late. She yanked on a pair of clean, white, chaste cotton panties and a plain bra, pulling on sweats and a t-shirt before going downstairs. He’d made spaghetti and garlic bread, and he greeted her brightly as she came cautiously into the kitchen.
The whole meal went like that, as if nothing had happened at all. They cleaned up together, and Becca thought something might happen then, but they washed and dried in perfect sync with no incident. Then Duncan said he had some work to do and went upstairs to his room, leaving her downstairs in front of the TV, idly flipping channels, unseeing.
She couldn’t see anything excerpt the way her stepfather had looked at her. Oh God, that look. She knew he wanted her. And she wanted him too. More than she could ever say.
So she decided to show him.
Upstairs, it was quiet. She stopped in the bathroom to pee and noticed her clothes were all gone. He’d probably taken them to burn them, she thought with a little giggle. She left her sweats on the floor, walking barefoot in just her t-shirt and panties across the hall to her parents’ room. The door was closed and she stood on the other side of it, considering knocking, for a long time. The light was on, a slit under the door. What was he doing?
“Ohhhh yeah.” The faint sound of his voice. She pressed her ear to the door, holding her breath. “Oh, Becca, suck it! Suck that hard fucking dick!”
Her eyes widened and she bit her lip as she pressed closer, trying to hear him, wishing she could see. Did she dare? Becca’s hand tightened on the doorknob and she turned it carefully, quietly, pushing the door open and praying it didn’t squeak. She left it that way, just open a crack, catching a glimpse of her stepfather on the bed.
“Mmm that’s such a good girl,” he murmured—she could hear him clearly now—gripping his hard cock in his fist. Becca was so excited she couldn’t breathe. “Suck it nice and slow. Yeah. Deeper… ohhhh yeah.”
Was he really imagining her? Becca’s pussy clenched at the thought, taking in the sight of him, completely nude, masturbating on the bed. When her gaze moved up to his face, her jaw dropped and she nearly gasped aloud. He had her panties—the black thong she’d left in the bathroom—up to his face and nose. No wonder he hadn’t seen her open the door!
“Show me your pussy,” he whispered, breathing deep into her panties. He looked different with his glasses off, like her stepfather, but not like him too. “I want to taste you. Oh God, I want to fuck you.”
Becca bit her lip to keep from crying out at his words. I want you too.
What would happen if she went in? What would happen if she climbed up onto the bed with him and took that gorgeous cock into her mouth? Would he recoil in shock and horror? Would he push her away?
Would he spank her again?
Would that be so bad?
Becca pushed the door open further, getting a clearer view of him, cock rising up toward the ceiling, his hand pumping up and down the length. The sight of it made her mouth water. She pulled her panties off and left them on the floor, following quickly with her t-shirt and bra, and then slipping as quietly into the room as she could. The floor had thick, dark shag carpet and she was in bare feet, so she made it to the bed almost silently.
“Ohhh fuck, sweetheart, yes, like that, rub that hot little pussy for me.” He was lost in his fantasy, eyes closed, the head of his cock glistening with pre-cum. Becca did as he asked, reaching down and parting her soft, dark, wet pubic hair, fingers searching for the aching nub of her clit and rubbing as she watched him.
“Yes! Suck it! Suck my fucking cock!”
He moaned, hips thrusting up as he imagined her mouth and tongue, and Becca couldn’t resist. She leaned down and took him between her lips, groaning at the taste of his pre-cum on her tongue as she followed his fist down to the base of his dick.
“Holy hell!” Duncan’s eyes flew open as he looked down at his stepdaughter, completely nude, sucking deeply and happily at his cock. He threw her panties aside as if they were on fire. “Oh! Fuck! Becca!”
“Don’t make me stop,” she begged, pushing his hand away and replacing it with her own. He was thick and throbbing and sticky with pre-cum. “Please. Let me suck it like you want me to. I know you want me to.”
She rolled her tongue around the velvety soft head of his cock before working her mouth up and down, supplementing the sensation with her hand. Duncan moaned and shook his head, moving a hand to her hair, gripping hard—but he didn’t stop her. And she wasn’t stopping. She sucked him hard and long, breathing in his scent—he smelled cinnamony, like Dentyne, even there—as she worked his cock in and out of her hungry little mouth.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, and Becca gasped when his hand found her breast, squeezing and kneading her flesh. “Oh honey, wait, wait, that’s so fucking good…”
Duncan pulled his cock out of her mouth and she whimpered, trying to capture him again between her lips. He shook his head, grabbing onto her hips and pulling her toward him, onto the bed. Smiling, Becca accepted the unspoken invitation, straddling him, anticipating his cock inside of her, but her stepfather had other ideas.
“Ohhhh!” Becca moaned when Duncan settled her not over his cock, but over his face, fastening his mouth on her mound. Sliding his hands up around her hips, he rocked her on his tongue, teasing the little head of her clit so delightfully she had to grab onto the headboard to keep from falling over.
Her stepfather made soft, low noises in his throat as he licked her, sounding almost like he was enjoying it more than she was—almost. Becca’s fantasy about her stepfather was coming true and she couldn’t quite believe it. Was she dreaming? Could this possibly be happening?
She found herself lost in some surreal place, half-fantasy, half-reality, until sensation finally took over and she gave into it. Her pussy responded to his attention, her juices flowing down his chin, his cheeks, her labia swelling, and her clit pulsed deliciously against his flickering tongue. He was taking her places she had only fantasized about.
“Oh I’m gonna come,” she whispered, slipping a hand through his hair. “Make me come, Daddy. Make me come all over your face!”
Her words made him moan against her mound and the sensation brought her climax to the surface like sudden the swell of a geyser. She flooded his mouth with her juices, crying out as she rocked her hips so hard the headboard banged against the wall over and over. He grabbed onto her, trying to hold her still, but she was like a landed fish in his arms, finally flopping sideways with a little scream, collapsing beside him on the bed in a sweaty, quivering heap.
“Holy hell,” Duncan whispered, kissing his way up her calf, her thigh, parting her legs with his palms. She tried to resist—her pussy was still spasming with her orgasm, so sensitive she could barely stand it—but she couldn’t resist him. She just couldn’t. He was on top of her, kissing her deeply, and she could taste her pussy in his mouth.
“Fuck me,” she whispered into his neck as he nudged against her with his cock, seeking entry. “Do it. Put it in. I want you.”
Duncan hesitated, seeming to understand this was the moment of no return. She knew it too. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”
“Please.” Becca’s hips shifted up for him, seeking the perfect angle. “I can’t think about anything else. I did it all for you. I wanted you to see me, to look at me… like that. I only ever wanted you.”
He groaned softly, raining kissed down on her cheeks, her chin, her jaw line, her lips. “Oh Becca, you have no idea…”
She gasped, feeling the shift of his weight, the slow slide of his cock, spreading her open. “Oh!”
“I couldn’t let you see,” he whispered, buried, finally, deep inside of her. “How much I wanted you. I fought it every day. Every minute.”
She tilted her head at him, eyes wide. “You did?”
“I can’t fight it anymore.” He began to move, making her whimper and shiver beneath him. He was so very hard for her.
“You don’t have to fight it.” She wrapped her arms and legs around him as they rocked. “I’m all yours.”
“I love you, Becca,” he whispered into her ear as he filled her, again, again, the slick slide of his cock sending shockwaves through her, his words filling her heart to bursting. She let him take her, his thrusts growing deeper, harder, driving her across the bed, and she clung to him with sweet desperation.
“More,” she begged, moaning as his tongue bathed her nipples, first one, then the other, her pussy clamping down around his cock in response. “Oh God! Suck them! Lick them!”
He buried his face in them, still fucking her deeply, his cock battering her pussy, such sweet torture, making her pelvis buzz with heat. Becca gave him everything with complete abandon. Her body had no reservations about it, had always known what it wanted, and she wanted it too.
“Make me come,” she cried, heels digging into the small of his back as he pounded her into the mattress. “Oh yes, Daddy, make me come all over your hard cock!”
And he did, his final thrust into her slick velvet sending them both over the edge. Duncan cried out against her neck, hips rolling, his pelvis grinding against her throbbing clit, her pussy snapping like a velvet glove around his pulsing cock. He shuddered and exploded into her, both of them clinging together. Duncan gave her everything she had ever wanted and more in that moment.
“Oh I love you,” she whispered, kissing his cheek, seeking his mouth, finding it, sealing her words with a soft, wet cinnamon tasting kiss.
“What are we doing?” he asked softly when their mouths parted, although they were still joined together, inseparable as they has always been, doing this dance all along. “This is so… wrong.”
“It’s not wrong.” She pulled him close, remembering how ashamed she’d felt for wanting him, knowing he must have felt the same. It wasn’t perverted, or sick, or twisted. It was… “It’s right. It’s perfect.”
He sighed, but it wasn’t a sad sigh. It was full of relief—of rightness. “I’m so yours.”
She knew it, somehow had always known it, but hearing him say it, seeing him finally, finally looking at her with all the love and desire in his eyes, filled her completely. This wasn’t a dream, or if it was, she never wanted to wake up.
It was a dream come true, and it was all she’d ever wanted.
Little Brats: Christa
Spoiled Christa has never wanted for anything in her life. She drives a brand new Mustang, is head cheerleader, and will graduate valedictorian of her high school class this year. All the boys want to date her and every girl wants to be her—but Christa has been keeping a secret.
Her parents divorced over a year ago and her mother re-married over the summer. No one knows that her new stepfather watches her practice her cheers in the yard from the bathroom window, and steals her panties out of the laundry, and watches her get undressed at night—because Christa leaves her door wide open.
No one knows how much Christa wants to get back at her parents—or how much she desperately wants to steal her new stepfather right out from her mother’s nose.
And spoiled Christa always gets what she wants.
His wife had her period panties and her regular ones—and then there were those tucked in the way back of the drawer. Those were the ones Jim was hunting for.
He found a pair he thought she might consider wearing—white satin with a red lace trim, the tag still dangling from the edge. He ripped off the plastic tab, tucking the tag into his pants pocket, wondering if these were the pair he had bought for her last Valentine’s Day. They looked like something he would
buy her, sexy but tasteful. Rachel hated anything slutty.
He put them on the bed, along with the dress and the card, jumping when he heard the door slam downstairs. “Dad?”
“I’ll be down in a minute!” he called. It was just his stepdaughter home from the Ashley’s—he heard her defiant tread on the stairs, coming to find him anyway. Note to self: tell the eighteen-year-old the opposite of whatever you want them to do. Jim edged out of the bedroom, shutting the door and meeting Christa at the top of the stairs. She was carrying her backpack over one shoulder, and she blew a wisp of long blond hair out of her eye as she smiled up at him.
“Hey, Dad.” Christa gave him a one-armed hug as she slipped by him. “Can I sleep over at Ashley’s tonight?”
Jim startled. He was going to ask her that very question! “Sure,” he replied, surprised at how well that had worked out, although he shouldn’t have been. It was the weekend, after all, and she seemed to spend every waking moment attached at the hip with her best friend. “Your mother and I are going out tonight.”