“Jane, where are you!” I heard my Stepfather’s voice shouting from downstairs and I knew I was in some kind of trouble. I hurried downstairs as I didn’t want Mom to find out, whatever it might be.
“Yes, Dad?” He always liked me calling him ‘Dad’, but I usually called him by his name, Steve, as he isn’t my biological father. Dad had passed away when I was only 12 and I was just 18 now.
“Jane, will you look at this mess?” He was upset, and not just at the mess I had left in the kitchen from my baking a cake for Mom’s birthday party tonight.
“Yes, Dad, sorry about that, I meant to clean it up.”
“Well, meant is very different than actually DOING!” His voice was raised at me as I had never heard before. I could see him flushed with anger and again, more than just what I had done.
“I suppose so.” I was growing defiant and standing there in the kitchen, dressed in my shorts, too-tight blouse, and sneakers, I had decided on something.
I was going to turn the tables on Steve.
“What did you just say to me, young lady?” His tone was wavering. I put my hands on my hips and stared him down. My defiance was having an effect on him.
“I said, I suppose that doing is different than MEANT.” My sarcasm was thick and harsh. My eyes meant business and I was clearly confident in the face of the man with the salt-and-pepper temples standing a few inches taller than I in his nice dress shoes and a business suit.
“I… I can’t believe what I am hearing!”
“Believe it, Dad.” As he looked at me, still flush and now blushing slightly, I could tell his mood at turned. He was no longer in control of the situation and I smiled as I realized something.
He was getting hot.
“I don’t know what to say…” His tone was gentler now.
“Say you’re sorry for raising your voice to me.” My own tone was nowhere near gentle. I knew what to do now and I was enjoying myself.
“I, I’m sorry for raising my voice to you, dear.”
“I am not ‘Dear’ to you. My name is Jane.”
“Sorry, Jane, for raising my voice to you.” He had lost all of his steam and I almost didn’t know what to do. Almost.
“Apology accepted on one condition, Dad.”
“Yes, Jane?” Compliance.
“Clean up my mess and wait in the living room once you’ve finished.” I paused, not sure of what would happen.
He surprised me with his answer.
“Yes, Jane. Thank you.” Complete compliance.
“Excellent. Take off your jacket, put on that apron, and get to work. Do not take longer than 30 minutes.” I didn’t look, I simply spun on my heels happily and left him alone in the kitchen to ponder his fate. And, of course, to perform the task I ordered of him.
Upstairs I thought of the different ways to proceed, what to do, and how to handle my Dad’s newfound… obedience. I surfed online and after a few minutes found some inspiration. Clearly Dad needed some direction and I was going to give it to him. In spades. After deciding on an outfit, I headed back downstairs. Of course, I made Dad wait longer than the assigned 30 minutes knowing how successful he was in the workplace, and as a man of his word, I had no doubt that he would finish as ordered.
I slipped on the blouse. Too tight and shiny. The skirt was also shiny, dark leather and too tight in all the right ways. Short, too. So short to leave any man drooling. Dad didn’t know about this one, or my toy… or the shoes. The heels were high enough to give me a nosebleed. Black stilettos in need of just a tiny little polish, which I planned to give them. Well, not personally…
The walk downstairs was slow and deliberate as I let the shoes make their delicious clicking noise with every step to signal I was coming. My toy in hand, my stance perfect and stern, I smiled down at my Dad as I came down the stairs. As ordered he was there in the living room looking up at me anxiously. There was something else in his eyes, too. Something that he shouldn’t have for a daughter even if I WAS his stepdaughter. But I wanted him to have it. Lust. Hunger. All for the dear little daughter.
This would be too much fun.
“All done, Daddy?” My tone was playful in complete contrast to my harsh, sexy, look.
“Yes, Jane, I finished everything in half an hour…” His pause was a result of him choking back the following words…
“…As ordered? Exactly, Daddy. As ordered, you completed your task in 30 minutes. I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me. That would have been… a mistake.” As I said the word I drew the riding crop into view from where I let it dangle out of sight. My toy. It had only ever been used once but I planned on changing that this afternoon.
“Thank you, Jane.”
“Of course. Anything for my dear old Dad.” Emphasis on the word ‘Old’ to twist him a little.
I finished walking down the stairs, no, strutting actually. My curves moved slowly and I wanted him to look at every one of them. I stood on the last step so I was a few inches above him and pointed the crop to the floor near my shiny shoes.
“Over here, Daddy.”
“But, Jane, I don’t think…”
“No. You don’t think. You DO. Over here, now.” My tone left no room for doubt. I was in charge. My one hand resting on my hip, my eyes cast down at him, and my crop pointed sharply to his new resting place, I was in control and I was going to make sure that Daddy knew it.
“Yes, Jane.” He moved slowly at first, his apron still on over his nice dress shirt and tie.
“Very good, Daddy. Now, this part will be the toughest for you, I think.” I smiled as though I was trying to be sympathetic. As if.
“What? I don’t know what you mean, Jane?” His look was confused as he stood there in front of me trying to take it all in. My appearance was disarming to him, I could tell. He was so hot and the slightest indication of a bulge was in his pants and tenting his apron. His pink, frilly, apron.
“On your knees, Daddy.” My smile was cold.
“What, why? I mean, I can’t possibly…” His voice trailed off for a second and I took that second to remind him of his place in the scheme of things. My riding crop moved up and I rested it on his cock as it made its the tent of the frilly apron he wore.
“Can’t, you say? You sure can get hard from this so far, Daddy. You are enjoying this. I am not sure if I want to know what part, exactly, so we are simply going to do what I want. Is that clear, Daddy?”
“Jane, but I shouldn’t…”
“You shouldn’t be hard for your daughter, but you are, Daddy. And getting harder as I hold my crop against your dick in it’s frilly apron. Face it, Daddy. You can make whatever noise with your face you like but your little dick is telling me it wants to do what I tell it.
“So get down on your fucking knees, bitch.” My tone was cruel. I wanted this too much.
“Yes, Jane.” And just like that, it happened.
My Daddy got down on his knees before me.
“Good boy, Daddy. What a good little bitch to do as it’s told. Take off your shirt.”
His look up at me with pleading eyes was so pathetic. It got me going.
“Aw, poor Daddy doesn’t want to be his dear daughter’s bitch? Too late to go back now, I think. Take off your shirt Daddy and do it now or I will hurt you.”
He did as he was told. He quickly slipped the apron off, undid his tie, took off his dress shirt, and looked up at me with eyes almost sad.
All the while his cock grew harder and bigger in his dress slacks.
“Daddy is excited.” I moved the riding crop over his chest, resting under his nipples and caressing them with the tip of the leather crop. My eyes showed how hungry I was and I think Daddy could smell my arousal as my sex followed suit.
“Sorry, Jane, I…”
“Shut the fuck up, Daddy. I didn’t give you permission to speak. Now unzip your pants and show your little girl your little dick.”
“What? No, I can’t…”
The whip hit his back, hard. I moved it back around and held it under his chin in one swift motion. Using the whip was easier than I thought it would be.
“Do. As. You. Are. Told.”
“Yes, Jane. I am sorry.”
“You are sorry. Pathetic, really. A spineless little pervert and you will not be using the word ‘no’ around me ever again, is that clear, Daddy?”
“Actually, call me ‘Miss Jane’ or simply, ‘Miss’, if you like, bitch.” I was smiling as I said it. It was clear to me that there would be no more arguments. For a while, anyway. Once he learned what was coming next he might be a little more resistant.
“Yes, Miss Jane, thank you, Miss.”
“Nicely done, bitch. Now then, a few grounds rules before I continue. While I dictate these to you I want you to slowly play with your drippy little dick. Understand that if you make even a slight mess with that thing I will make you regret it. Are we clear, bitch?”
“Yes, Miss Jane, thank you.”
“Daddy is being good for me!” My sarcastic tone of the loving daughter must have cut him deeply as the look in his eyes was filled with shame. Lovely.
I had no intention of stopping. I wanted to break him. Make him mine.
As he gingerly unzipped his pants, I watched as he carefully withdrew his cock from his pants. Smaller than the jocks I usually play with, it was nice enough. I bent a little, showing my cleavage to Daddy, and used the crop to move the precum around, coating the tip of the crop. He seemed to enjoy that. I leaned back imperiously and, with the crop off to my side, I stared him down.
“Excellent. Well, your dick is smaller than I thought, Daddy. Whatever. I have no use for it anyway. As I was saying…
“Hand on your cock, bitch.” He complied with pleading and sad eyes.
“You are my bitch. There is no doubt of that after this disgusting display of yours. Your wife, my Mom, will not know of this until I decide to tell you. Or unless you fail me. Understood?” I had to be careful here.
“What? No, we can’t bring her into this…” A mistake on his part.
“Can’t? I can do whatever I want, bitch! You forget your place, I think. I will teach you a lesson after I’ve finished. No, as I was saying…
“You will be a lot more generous with my allowance, of course. Nothing too much at first but I will tell you that the college fund is going to be a lot bigger after today, isn’t it, Daddy?” A sweet smile as if I was asking for a ride to the mall.
“Yes, Miss Jane.”
“Also, chores will be handled…differently around the house now. As in you will be doing them. All of them. On reward days (which will be rare) you will be hand-washing my dirty underwear and you will learn to like them. For a lot of reasons but more on that later.
“You are now on call. When I call you I expect you to drop what you are doing and do as you are told. This means meetings, romantic dinners with Mom, and basically any other time I have the whim. Trust me when I tell you this part will not be pleasant for you, Daddy.
“You are my personal maid. This means waiting on me hand and foot. Remember that time you ‘busted’ me for smoking in my room? You will be holding my ashtray as I blow smoke in your fucking face. Remember that time you got mad when you found the empty beer bottle in my car? You will be serving me drinks in your frilly bitch apron and nothing else, Daddy. This one will be hard for you, also.
“Actually, let’s just face facts, bitch. Your life is one of servitude now. To me, Daddy. Your daughter is your new owner and you will eventually be giving up everything to serve me hand and foot like the little obedient bitch you are. Any questions?” My smile was sickly sweet as I saw him churn in anguish and desire.
“Yes, Miss Jane.”
“And what do you say, Daddy?” I started to raise the crop slowly.
“Thank you, Miss Jane.”
I placed the crop, covered in his cold precum, to his lips as I smiled down at him.
“What a good little Daddy you are. Now lick up the mess you left on the whip before I punish you, bitch.”
I waited. This was an important moment and I wanted to savor it, to see how far I had pushed him.
His tongue gently, painfully, slipped out from his lips and caressed the tip of my riding crop. Slowly taking in his own precum, the slimy mess wasn’t going easily as it clung to the whip, his tongue, and slapped a small clear strand onto his lower lip. It dangled there before dropping onto his chest. I laughed.
“HA! Disgusting. What kind of man eats cum, Daddy?” My question was intended to push him further.
“I… I don’t know, Miss Jane?” He looked at me pleadingly.
Once again I savored the moment of his anguish before dashing his hopes apart.
“A faggot. The kind of man who eats cum is called a faggot, Daddy. Are you a faggot, Daddy?” My tone was beyond cruel. Long gone was the sweet daughter he had, just yesterday, lovingly chatted with.
“No, Miss Jane, that is, I am not a…”
“Well, you might not like men like THAT just yet, but you HAVE eaten cum like a faggot, Daddy. The evidence is pretty clear. Let’s explore this more, Daddy.”
His fear was tangible.
“Stroke that cock of yours, Daddy. Show your daughter how much you love her.” The repulsive nature of that statement twisted both of us in different ways, crossing a boundary that felt so wrong.
“Please, Miss Jane, don’t make me…”
“Make you? Daddy, you will do as I say and that’s the end of THAT!” A favorite phrase of Steve’s. Before he became Jane’s bitch, of course.
“Yes, Miss Jane.” Using his right hand he started stroking his cock. I could see the discomfort in his eyes. The friction from dry-rubbing must have been unpleasant. I let it go on for a few more seconds before leaning down again.
My scent assailed him and I heard him breathe deeply to take it all in. His eyes went back to my cleavage before coming to meet my own. I leaned a little lower.
“Let me help you, Daddy. It’s only fair after all those times you helped me…with my homework.” My smile must have hurt as much as the reminder of what was. The pain he felt got me so very hot. He must have smelled it or sensed something about me because just as the thought crossed my mind his gaze shifted to me desperately.
I waited a moment more before ‘helping’ Daddy.
I let a slim stream of spit leave my lips so very slowly, savoring the moment of Daddy’s hungry look. The spit must have been cold as it struck his cock and right hand because he jolted a little, all the while his eyes locked on mine and shifting to my lips. I let my tongue glide over my red lips teasingly, my mouth slightly open and inviting.
I leaned back up as he kept slowly stroking his cock, easier now. My look was a cruel one and my voice was similarly without pity.
“And what do you say?”
“Thank you, Miss Jane.”
“For what, Daddy?” My tone went sweet again. This was certainly driving Daddy up a wall by now!
“For…that is, I…”
“Say it, Daddy. Tell me.” I towered over him.
“Thank you for spitting on my…my cock.”
“And? Is that all, Daddy?” I was going to grind home what a bitch my Daddy was.
“Thank you for lubricating my cock so I could stroke it for you, Miss Jane. Thank you for allowing me to… pleasure myself…” I cut him off.
“You are not ‘pleasuring yourself’, you degenerate fuck! Men pleasure themselves! You are just masturbating like some pervert in a trenchcoat! Walking off like some faggot in an adult bookstore!”
“Yes, Miss Jane, I am so sorry!” His fear was beyond real and made my heart sing.
“Thank you for letting me wack off, and for letting me gape at you like the pervert I am, Miss Jane!”
His proclamation would be the end of him.
“Better, bitch. Disgusting.” I could feel any sense of respect I had for my Daddy slip away just as I spat on him. Wonderful, even as I saw how pathetic he could become for me, I felt the power swell within me.
“Nothing but a repulsive pervert. I wonder what Mom would say if she saw you here? On your knees like a bitch, wacking your dick and taking my abuse? I am sure she would be SO proud!” My laughter and sarcasm washed over him and his eyes glazed over as he grew close to orgasm.
“You are getting off on this, aren’t you Daddy?”
“Yes, Miss Jane, I am so sorry, but I am…”
“HA! I bet Mom would love to know that even while you sleep with her, fuck her, you are happier here. On your knees, in an apron, being spat on and reminded that you are nothing but a filthy little bitch.”
“Please no, Miss Jane…”
He immediately knew his mistake and I smiled as I tasted the fear.
My crop came down hard across his cheek, his face flushed even redder and now bearing a nice little mark as well.
“What did we say about that word, Daddy?”
“I am so sorry, Miss Jane! I didn’t mean it…”
“Of course not, Daddy. I know what you are. I know what a disgusting little excuse of a man you are now. No. Not a man. A repulsive little faggot who needs to be told what to do. Isn’t that right, Daddy?”
“Yes, Miss Jane, I am so sorry…”
“Yes, what?” I wanted him to suffer.
“Yes, I know I am a disgusting excuse of a man, Miss Jane.”
“And?” I leaned low again and saw him flush hot as the sun with excitement and arousal.
“And I am a repulsive little faggot who needs to be told what to do, Miss Jane.”
“Told? By whom?” My smile was cruel.
“By you, Miss Jane. I need to be told what to do by you, Miss.” His defeat was complete. Almost.
“Lovely. So lovely, bitch. I can tell you are close to making your fucking little mess, aren’t you, Daddy?”
“Yes, Miss Jane…I… I am…”
“Ask me for permission.”
“What? I… may I please, Miss Jane?” His pleading was delicious.
“May I please cum Miss Jane.”
“I thought we covered this, Daddy? Men cum. Men pleasure themselves. You are not a man. You, Daddy, are just a little faggot bitch who is disgusting and deserves to be abused. Try again.”
“Sorry, Miss Jane. May I please…. may I please make my little mess, Miss Jane?”
I smiled so sweetly, just as I used to when Daddy would buy me something nice at the mall or after opening a Christmas present.
But this time I was smiling because Daddy was my bitch. My obedient, broken, little bitch.
“You may, bitch. Make your mess, Daddy. Show Miss Jane how happy you are to be my bitch.”
It only took a moment after that. He came in a thick rope, spurting over and over, much of it on the steps but most on my shoes just as I had planned.
“HA! I bet Mom doesn’t like the fact you make your mess so quickly! Daddy has no staying power… you must make a lousy lover just as you are no longer a man.” I knew that even though he was coming down from the orgasm I couldn’t let up, or let him think it was a game.
This is real.
“Well, that is, I don’t think Mom…”
“I didn’t ask you a question or leave it for discussion, bitch. It was rhetorical. Just as you might talk to a dog, Daddy.” I smiled at him in what was likely the last demonstration of a hint of understanding he would see from me.
“And just like a dog, you should learn not to make messes!” And with that, I took the crop, pressed it against the back of his head, and pressed. He got the message and leaned his head forward.
“Good dog. Now then, you will learn that any time you are granted the privilege of making your little faggot mess (Okay, it was anything but little!) you have to clean up after yourself.” The crop continued to press against the back of his head and he kept lowering himself.
“Now lap it up with that tongue of yours, bitch. And I expect every drop of your filthy white goo to be cleaned from the floor, and more importantly, from my lovely shoes.” He paused for a moment. I let him have a moment of resistance before continuing to press the crop downward.
He lowered his head.
“My shoes first, Daddy. You paid for them, after all. You wonder why my allowance is so high, well now you know. It’s from the crop I am using on your faggot ass to the skirt your drooled over, and of course the shoes you are facing, now covered in your useless seed.” I was enjoying this too much. The musk from my excitement hit my nostrils and that problem would have to be solved soon. Daddy to the rescue!
But first things, first.
“I expect to see them shine. I want you to see your face in them. The face of a pervert eating his own mess like some faggot slurping up a lover’s goo. C’mon Daddy, show me you love me!”
My plan to get them clean was working. I felt his tongue gingerly caress the leather. Daddy was showing his love.
“You will have to get used to using your tongue, Daddy. It is the only part of your body that really has any use for me. Expect it to get quite a workout, bitch.” I smiled down at him, moving the crop over the back of his head like a lover might hold someone giving them head.
“Because I have some news for you, in case you weren’t already clear on things.
“You are not a man to me.
“You are not even a person to me.
“You, Daddy, are my bitch.”