My stepfather is my bitch – part 2

To part one of the story

“Cleaning the Kitchen”

Mistresses into faggots near

I changed again to get ready for the evening. It would be a very special one, to be sure.
Daddy would suffer tonight.
And if he didn’t obey to the letter, Mom would know all about it.
I smiled as I thought of it. I never saw myself as a homewrecker but something about destroying my dear Daddy’s marriage tickled me deep down. But for now it is better for everyone if she doesn’t know that Daddy is my bitch.
The outfit was teasing without being slutty. Mom hated this skirt; ‘It’s too short!’ she said when I bought it. She understood when I explained that all the girls were wearing them this year.
Right. A tight leather skirt that hugged the curves of my pert ass and rode up enough to show a glimpse of my thong. With the tight, but long (-ish) top I chose, Mom would scarcely notice that I was dressing to tease and torment her husband right under her nose.
Assuming, of course, that my dear Ol’ Daddy could do as he has been told and keep Mom from noticing what a spineless little piece of shit he was. I smiled again. Not my problem.
Finishing up my makeup, I picked up my things, checked my phone, and headed downstairs. Mom would be home in about an hour so I had some time to set the stage for my Daddy’s complete humiliation.
As I descended the stairs I typed the simple text message to dear Daddy’s phone and pressed ‘Send’.
I smiled wide as I re-read the message and got a little hot thinking of it. “Get your ass in the fucking kitchen in 2 minutes or I will make you sorry you ever married my Mom, bitch!”
I grabbed a small plate and sat myself down in the kitchen facing the door. I moved the dish around aimlessly as I thought of a few things to do with my hour. My lovely, lovely, hour alone with Daddy.
Without even looking at my phone to see how long Daddy took, I breathed in just as he opened the swinging door to the kitchen. For the first time since this started, I was at a loss for words… until…
“Thank You, Miss Jane, for calling me.”
And I immediately felt comfortable again treating my loving Dad like my fucking two-dollar whore.
Which he was.
“Whatever, bitch.” I looked up at him, glaring. I casually lifted my hand to the table where I was holding my pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I watched his reaction carefully, savoring what I knew was coming.
There was a flash of disappointment followed by something I am seeing in his eyes every time he looks at me.
Fear. Pure fear.
“Miss Jane? I… that is…”
He wanted so desperately to play the caring Father, which he truly is. He wanted to lecture me, or spank me, or do anything other than what I wanted him to do.
Which was – take it like a bitch.
I lit up, set the lighter carefully down next to the small plate, and ignored him for a minute or so to let him stew and suffer a little. I could hear him breathe deeply, trying to avoid the smoke, the idea that the smell would be in the house, and a dozen other things racing through his mind.
And then he said it. The words I never expected to hear from dear Daddy about seeing his baby girl smoking so casually in front of him.
“Thank you, Miss Jane.” Broken. Again. A tone I was hearing a lot lately and I liked it too much.
So with a smile, I did what I was also starting to enjoy too much.
Pressed his humiliation and pain home.
“Bitch. Fucking little bitch.” I smiled. That made it a little easier on him, I think.
But I didn’t really care if it did or not. I was enjoying making my loving Father suffer and twist before me like some horny teenager. He was flustered but clearly getting hot and growing more servile with every passing moment.
And every puff of exhaled smoke in the kitchen.
“Get over here, bitch.” And I authoritatively pointed to the floor beside me.
He hesitated, but less every time, and walked towards me, defeated.
“Did I say that you could STAND, faggot?!?”
He dropped to his knees like a sack of potatoes tossed from a truck. It was a pathetic display that likely hurt his knees as they made a loud ‘thud’ on the linoleum. I smiled. His suffering was delicious to me.
“Good girl. Now crawl over here on all fours like an obedient little doggy.”
And he did.
It wasn’t fast enough but I figured I would be able to correct that later.
I took a deep drag from the cigarette, timing it for when he arrived at the appointed spot, and exhaled directly into his face in a casual manner, without even looking him in the eye. The coughs that followed were music to my ears.
I carefully tapped the small ash onto the plate, knowing full well it would be going elsewhere before I was finished.
“So here we are, Daddy. You, on your knees before your little girl, while she smokes in your house. I wonder what Mother would have to say about that?” Again, I didn’t even look at him, knowing that he twisted inside.
“Seriously, you are just pathetic. You and I both know that sex has nothing to do with this. You are less than a man, an underendowed little bitch with no spine. You are on your knees because you are nothing more than my slave. My bitch. A fucking toy to use and discard. Isn’t that right, Daddy?”
“Yes, Miss Jane.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Miss Jane, I am less than a man…”
“HA! Exactly! You are SUCH a bitch. A faggot with a small dick who has no business fucking anything…” And then it hit me.
I had an idea of what he COULD fuck. Later. For now, I wanted to make him hurt some more.
“You have a tiny dick. You aren’t good for pleasing a woman. You shouldn’t be sticking that thing anywhere, actually.”
I waited. I wanted an answer. As always, Daddy didn’t disappoint his little girl.
“No, Miss Jane, I shouldn’t be sticking my little dick anywhere.” So sad. True, and I was loving it, but sad.
“Nope. Sticking your WHAT, though?” I smiled. Another drag from my cigarette.
“My (COUGH) little thing (COUGH).”
“Fucking disgusting. You disgust me, and you should be ashamed of yourself, you know that?”
“Yes, Miss Jane, I do know that, thank you.”
Aw, delightful gratitude at heaping insults on my loving Father. I was enjoying this a LOT.
I swiveled to face him. Smiling down at my sad Dad I raised my heel gently to his thigh and pressed. Deep. Hard. I was savoring the look of resistance on his face. The lines around his eyes showing me his suffering even as my eyes were alight with pure joy at his pain.
I was growing to need this. Just as I needed Daddy’s love when I was a child, I needed his suffering now.
And he was giving to me. And what was more, he was enjoying it too. I moved the heel of my shoe to his growing cock.
“You are repulsive. What is THIS?!!?”
“I, I am sorry Miss Jane…” He looked down with a little bit of surprise at his erection.
“Sorry? Yes, we are covering that a lot. You are sorry. Disgusting. A disgusting little fairy who likes being abused by his own StepDaughter.”
“Yes, Miss Jane, I am a disgusting little fairy who likes being abused.”
Almost. He was getting better but I wasn’t going to let him hold back anything from me.
“Abused by who? SAY IT!”
“I like to be abused by my beautiful stepdaughter.” He was on the verge of tears. Again. I was getting used to it.
“Aw, how sweet! Do you think I am beautiful? My Daddy is so proud of his little girl!”
“Yes, Miss, I…”
“While your daughter is fucking disgusting by YOU!” SLAP!
SLAP! I slapped him again, harder. And again.
“You.” SLAP!
“Disgust.” SLAP!
“Me.” SLAP!
“Fucking pathetic little dirtbag. Kiss my other heel while I dig this into your sad excuse for a dick, you fucking bitch.” He was beyond aroused, his cheeks flush (and not JUST from my slapping them), his cock hard with a damp spot forming again on the front of his slacks. Almost too easy.
His lips eagerly met my shiny black shoe as I pressed it condecendingly against his lips. For a moment I pictured those lips as they kissed Mom goodbye in the morning just as they had kissed my forehead before school. This was getting me drunk with power.
“God if Mom could only see you now, kneeling before me while I stab my heel into that sad little thing you poke her with. Repulsive little bitch.”
I slowed myself, took a drag off my cigarette and exhaled leisurely into his face. His coughing was almost in rhythm to his tiny dick bouncing under my heel. I was getting so hot again at his suffering. It would never be enough. I knew that now.
I took my high heeled shoe from his lips and he leaned forward, hungrily, in an attempt to catch it before it left. Sad. A second later I removed the shoe that was pressed into his damp cock and made a distinct ‘click’ on the floor next to him, straddling his sad, sweaty, desperate, face.
I leaned down at him, cigarette at my lips, dragging deeply.
The look of fear on his face at whatever might come next was exquisite and I made a mental note to always make him look that scared, wounded and sad. I exhaled a thick plume of smoke into his mouth and nose, forcing him to cough loudly.
“Lean back and keep that fucking hole in your face open for your Mistress.”
Using the word ‘Mistress’ made it seem so real. My ownership of my own Dad.
“Yes, Miss Jane…” I cut him off.
My finger pressed hard against his lower lip, my nail clearly hurting him as it left a white mark, I moved my cigarette closer to his face. I drank in the look in his eyes as he followed the cigarette towards him.
Towards his open mouth.
My new ashtray.
The ash dropped casually onto his waiting tongue. An eager tongue. Like the rest of my loving Daddy, it was a tongue whose only purpose was to please his beloved stepdaughter. I smiled at the thought and the wonderful sound of his choking back the ash and swallow it deep.
I showed some mercy as I turned away from him and put my cigarette out in the dish. Still looking at the dish, my finger on his lips, I spoke in a low tone full of menace.
“You will disrobe, putting your clothes near the kitchen door, and as before you will put on the frilly apron as any other maid would. Then you will clean up this dish with my cigarette and ash, washing the rest of the dishes as I normally might. Back when I did any chores, that is…
“Then you will prepare dinner for Mom and me, with a small portion for yourself. Do not plan on enjoying much of it as I have a… special ingredient I will add before Mom gets home. The cake will be made ready, as you already did a passable job of cleaning up there will be ample time to finish.
“Once you are done, fetch your cell phone and text me your work is done. Once you have passed my inspection, and assuming there is time, you will be able to change out of your cum stained clothes into something that gives Mom the impression you are still a human being.”
I got up and started leaving the kitchen, a smile creeping on my face as I thought of all the suffering I was visiting upon Dear Ol’ Daddy.
“And lastly, you will make absolutely certain that when I get back there is no reason for me to be disappointed. I have only begun to make you suffer, and when I actually punish you the agony will be… indescribable.”
The fear he felt was like a thing alive as I left him to his work.

To part 3 of the story