Dominated by Her Stepdaughter Ch. 12

For a long time that night Annabel lay in bed next to her husband, restless and unable to sleep. He had insisted on taking them all out to dinner at a fancy restaurant, and they'd had a reasonably good time. He could be charming when he wanted to. But they'd all had a lot to drink, him most of all, even though he was driving. He never let anyone else drive his car, and when Annabel suggested they get an Uber, he flatly refused.

Carla, meanwhile, was having a fantastic time. She loved sitting there knowing that she was fucking her father's wife and that he had no idea. When Annabel excused herself to go to the bathroom, Carla went along -- such a totally normal thing, two girls going to the ladies' room together. Once they were alone inside, Carla wrapped her arms around Annabel from behind, fondling her breasts and then running one hand down to her crotch. Annabel begged her to stop, and she was so pathetic that Carla relented. There would be plenty of time for all this, she knew.

On the way home, Annabel sat in the passenger seat looking miserable as her husband drove 20 miles an hour over the speed limit, having polished off three brandies over dessert. They arrived home without incident, but Annabel was fuming as she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She was worried that when she went to bed, he was going to try something -- at the moment she couldn't stand the idea of him touching her, but he was unaccustomed to being refused and might make a scene. So she dawdled in the bathroom as long as she could and, fortunately, by the time she got to bed he was already asleep.

She wished she could sleep too, but all she could think of was Carla -- so close, and yet so far away. In her mind's eye she saw herself standing up from the bed and creeping down the hallway to Carla's room, where Carla was waiting for her, gloriously naked, having known she'd come. Carla took Annabel in her arms and kissed her, and one thing led to another....

But in reality Annabel didn't have the guts. She sat there quietly in bed until sleep finally, mercifully, overtook her.

* * *

Annabel slept late, and by the time she woke up her husband was already gone, having left for another multi-day business trip. Going downstairs she was shocked to discover that Carla had gotten up before her and was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

A look passed between them and, remembering what had transpired in the kitchen the day before, Annabel flushed crimson. All the same, she felt a tingle between her legs and wondered if they might be able to pick up where they had left off. But Carla, after politely pouring her stepmother a cup of java, went upstairs to shower.

When Annabel returned to her bedroom after having breakfast she found Carla going through her closet. Carla had some plans for the day, and wanted Annabel to look just so. She had already laid out a black thong, a red lace bra, and long black-and-red striped socks. Now Annabel watched as Carla went through her wardrobe and picked out her skimpiest, most revealing halter top and her shortest skirt -- one she'd bought in a moment of impulsive boldness and never actually dared to wear.

Carla untied Annabel's robe and let it drop to the floor. Standing there naked, Annabel felt her nipples stiffen and her pussy moisten, but at the moment Carla was all business. After helping her get dressed, Carla stepped back and looked her up and down appraisingly. "Not bad," she said. "Not bad at all."

Catching herself in the mirror, Annabel had to admit that she looked hot, if a bit cheap. The straps and sides of the bra were visible under her top, but it made for a sort of saucy, devil-may-care effect. A lot of thigh was visible under the tiny skirt, and Annabel tried to tug it down, but Carla stopped her.

Taking out her phone, Carla snapped a picture and sent Annabel off to shower. Once Annabel was gone, Carla started tapping away at her phone with an evil smile on her face. She could feel herself getting juicy between the legs just thinking about what she had planned.

When Annabel came back into the room, naked and wet, Carla was tempted to rip her towel off and have some fun before they left. But she controlled herself and helped Annabel get dressed, trying to make her look just as she had before.

It was just before noon when they climbed into Carla's car, put the top down, and headed down the coast. It was a gorgeous day and Carla blasted the Rolling Stones as they rolled south through Santa Monica to Marina Del Rey. There they stopped at a busy grocery store and Carla insisted that Annabel come inside with her to get a few things.

Really, Carla just wanted to make Annabel walk around in public looking as slutty as she did. She enjoyed watching the heads turn; every man in the place and quite a few of the women swiveled to look at them. All of a sudden Carla felt jealous that Annabel might be getting more attention than her. She checked out their reflection in a display case.

Carla thought she looked sexy, though she was dressed relatively conservatively in a peasant skirt and blouse. But she was definitely put in the shade by all the skin Annabel was showing. Well, thought Carla, I guess that's what I wanted, isn't it?

Returning to the car, they continued heading south, passing through Manhattan Beach and finally pulling up in front of a small house in Hermosa Beach. As they drove Carla casually rested her hand on Annabel's knee, occasionally running it up her thigh and between her legs. As a result, Annabel's panties were soaking wet by the time they arrived.

At the door Carla knocked twice, then once, then twice again; after a short interval the door opened. The woman who appeared was in her late 20s, with long, light brown hair and striking ice-blue eyes. She beckoned them inside and closed the door, carefully locking several locks behind them.

"Katya," said Carla as they hugged. "So good to see you again."

"My favorite customer," purred Katya in a husky, Russian-accented voice. "You stay away so long."

"I know," replied Carla. "I missed you too."

Looking behind Carla, Katya saw Annabel standing there, looking awkward and out of place. "So this is your machekha? Remind me of the English word."

"Stepmother."

Katya looked Annabel up and down. "You know, when you sent me that picture I thought, this cannot be for real."

"Oh, she's for real, alright," said Carla. "And she'll do anything you want her to."

Katya cocked an eyebrow. "Anything? Hmmm, we'll see. But first, we have a smoke."

Katya opened the top of her coffee table and pulled out an enormous ziploc bag full of purple-green buds. Annabel recognized the overpowering smell immediately; she'd smoked a few times back in college, though she'd never really seen what the big deal was.

"Voodoo," said Katya. "Straight from Humboldt County."

Katya and Carla sat on the couch, while Carla gestured for Annabel to be seated in the overstuffed chair across from them. Katya got out a huge green glass water pipe, filled it, and pushed it over to Carla.

Carla lit up and drew on the pipe for what seemed to Annabel like an incredibly long time, held the smoke in her lungs for a few seconds, and breathed out an impressive white cloud. Katya whistled approvingly and grabbed the bong; after taking a hit she offered it to Annabel, who shook her head no. Katya shrugged and returned the pipe to Carla.

For awhile they just sat and smoked, Carla and Katya catching up on what had happened in their lives since they saw each other last. Both of them more or less ignored Annabel, who sat there studying the house and the woman who lived in it. It was a surprisingly spacious interior, airy and well-appointed, but the atmosphere had just a hint of oppressiveness. All the windows were covered, making the house somewhat dim even at midday.

There was some very strange art on the walls, much of it sexually graphic. There was a picture of a maid spanking her mistress; one of two women fingering each other; one of a nun, bent over with her habit lifted, being flogged by another nun. Annabel realized that she was starting to get a little excited; she also realized that she was getting high just from being in the room, and not in a way that she was used to. Anything she had experienced before paled in comparison.

Looking over at Katya, Annabel found herself focusing in on the Russian's lips. They were plump and juicy, accented with scarlet-red lipstick, but there was also a certain hardness in Katya's mouth, just a hint of cruelty. In this it was not unlike Carla's.

Eyes traveling downward, Annabel saw that Katya was dressed entirely in black, wearing leather boots, skinny jeans, and a tight T-shirt that showed off an impressive set of boobs. Two hard nipples were visible underneath, and Annabel found her eyes locked on them as Katya came toward her.

Taking Annabel's chin in her hands, Katya lifted her head and looked into her eyes. Annabel was mesmerized. The Russian woman's eyes were intelligent, uncompromising, penetrating. Annabel felt like Katya knew everything she was thinking.

Katya took Annabel's hand and helped her to a standing position. "Come with me, machekha."

* * *

Next thing she knew, Annabel was on her hands and knees naked -- save for her socks -- on a sort of platform at one side of the room. Pulling Annabel's hands behind her back, Katya tied them together with a length of rope, then tied that rope off to a hook in the ceiling. In this position Annabel's hands were lifted straight up the air behind her, forcing her to bend forward for balance, but not quite allowing her to touch the ground. It wasn't painful, exactly, but it was awkward and uncomfortable.

Going back to sit beside Carla, Katya fired up the pipe again and filled her lungs all the way with smoke. Then she walked over to where Annabel was, knelt down, and again took Annabel's chin in her hand. Pressing her lips forcefully against Annabel's, Katya exhaled, breathing the smoke into Annabel's lungs.

Annabel coughed, feeling suddenly lightheaded and a little giddy. Carla shook her head. "Such a waste of good dope," she said. Firing the lighter she added, "Hold it in your lungs this time." She took a hit and did the same thing Katya had just done, blowing a stream of second-hand smoke down Annabel's throat.

With effort, Annabel just barely managed to hold it in. Carla stepped away as Katya came forward and slid a ballgag into Annabel's mouth. This forced Annabel to exhale through her nose, white clouds billowing through both nostrils.

Annabel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She suddenly became aware that music was playing in the room, something classical and intricate. Had it just started, or had it been playing the whole time without her noticing? She didn't know.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw something alarming: Katya was holding a whip, waving it slowly through the air as if testing it. Annabel's eyes bulged and she gulped, whimpering through her gag. Surely they must be kidding, she thought, they couldn't possibly... when, crack, the whip smacked against her rear end.

Annabel looked over pleadingly at Carla, whose expression was remote. Finding no help there, she shifted her gaze to Katya, whose eyes were gleaming demonically. There was a fire in those eyes, something ancient and primal; it was too much for Annabel, who averted her eyes just as Katya again raised the whip.

Fortunately for Annabel, Katya was an expert. She knew how to cause pain without real damage, and even painwise she took it easy on Annabel, dealing her glancing blows on the rump, back, and thighs. That didn't stop Annabel from moaning pitifully or tears from forming at the corners of her eyes. Worse than the pain was the knowledge that she was in this situation voluntarily; no one had put a gun to her head.

Annabel breathed a sigh of relief when Katya finally left off, curling the whip into a coil and sitting it down. Her skin burned where it had been hit, but after a few seconds the pain began to transform into a warm feeling that was almost pleasurable.

Katya untied the end of the rope from the ceiling hook and took it with her to the couch. There Annabel watched as Katya pulled off first her boots, then her jeans, then the black panties underneath. She had a substantial crop of dark brown pubic hair, but it was neatly trimmed into a perfect triangle.

Picking up the rope, Katya began to twist it around her hand, forcing Annabel to knee-walk toward her. When she was directly in front Katya released the rope, spread her legs, and gripped the back of Annabel's head with both hands.