The Reckoning Ch. 01

Editor's Note: this story contains BDSM themes.

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It had been one of those days. You know, the kind that begins with a frenzied hunt for your car keys (until you finally find them in your briefcase) and ends with a snappish comment to your assistant that you berate yourself for all the way home. So imagine how I felt when walked in to a house that looked like a tornado had spun through it moments before. The family room was a graveyard of empty cans of soda (and, I was furious to find, beer), and chip bags; the kitchen sink was piled high with dishes; and the dog was barking frantically at the back door, dying to go out. I seethed as I looked around at the empty, messy rooms. Lauren. This particular tornado's name was Lauren.

My stepdaughter and I had been living here alone since her mom—my soon-to-be ex-wife—took off with her boss six months before, leaving me with her obnoxious 18 year-old daughter, Lauren. When I say obnoxious, it's not said in love. Believe me. I'd put up with the kid for my wife's sake, and I did feel a little sorry for her at first—she'd lost her dad in a car accident at age five, for goodness sake—but her spoiled-brat personality quickly put an end to my sympathy. Beth, my wife, simply did not know the word 'No' when it came to her darling daughter. The two of them were thick as thieves, a united front against my efforts to maintain some order and routine in the house, and in our budget.

After a few years, it started to affect our marriage. Every fight, it seemed, was about something to do with Lauren. The money Beth spent on the latest clothes for Lauren; the mediocre grades that came home on every report card; the total lack of respect for our home; and, lately, the, skimpy and skimpier outfits Lauren was parading around in. And Lauren, like most spoiled, pretty teenage girls, sailed above it all...hardly seeming to notice my escalating disapproval of her behavior.

Of course, when her mom was around, I'd had to take a fairly hands-off approach, to keep what was left of the peace around here. But once Beth did her vanishing act (which didn't seem to phase Lauren one bit, I might add), the gloves had come off. I'd instituted rules, chores, and curfews...all to fierce resistance. But Lauren had adjusted, gradually coming home when I'd told her to, picking up her things, improving her grades. All in all, I thought we'd made some progress. We still avoided each other, and every conversation was tense and loaded with sarcastic compliance, but I felt we could stick it out until she'd graduated from high-school and was out of my hair.

Well, this was the end of all the so-called progress. I'm sure my rotten day had something to do with it but by the time I heard a car-door slam an hour or so later I was, if anything, angrier with Lauren than when I'd first walked in the door. The sight of her bounding up the front steps in a miniscule blue-jean skirt and a tight belly-button baring tank top, as if she hadn't a care in the world, just made me snap. I had to take a deep breath before I opened the door, but she could still see how furious I was. She actually paused on the threshold, afraid, I think, to come in.

"What's up?" She smiled, but gingerly. I grabbed her upper arm and pulled her inside, locking the door behind her. The smile faded and her green eyes were wide with alarm. I have to admit I enjoyed the sensation; I felt like I had the upper hand with her, for once.

"What's up? What's up?" I growled. "What do you think is up?" I gestured roughly toward the family room, and down the hall to the kitchen. "What do you think this is, a frat house?"

"Oh...yeah...sorry about that...I, uh, had a few friends over after school..." Lauren was clearly nervous; in fact, she'd turned pale under the tan she and her girlfriend had spent Memorial Day perfecting in our backyard.

"I don't recall giving you permission for a party."

"It wasn't a party." How quickly the sarcasm returned. With that one word, I'd made up my mind. This was going to end. I didn't say anything for some time, just stood there, looking down at her. I took in her long, golden brown hair, falling over her shoulders, the smattering of freckles across her nose that gave her an alluringly girlish look, the green eyes with their flecks of brown and blue, her trim, curvy body, poured into the revealing outfit. Lauren stared back at me, trying to remain defiant.

"Go up to your room," I said. "I'll be there in a minute."

"You're sending me to my room?" She couldn't believe it. Her mouth actually hung open for a moment. "I'm not six."

"You act like a child, so I'm going to punish you like a child. Go." I said this last word with enough menace that Lauren jumped, and started moving toward the stairs.

"Fine," she muttered under her breath. "I could use a nap."

I almost laughed...but I was still too angry. If she thought she was heading for a nap, she had another think coming.

Before I headed upstairs to Lauren's room, I went into my office to cool down. I needed to be calm and collected to do what I was planning; I didn't want to proceed in anger. I wanted Lauren to see that I was dead serious about her behavior, and I needed to be in complete control. I actually played a couple of hands of solitaire on the computer before going upstairs. It was probably about fifteen minutes, all told. Enough time to settle myself, and for Lauren to stew in her juices waiting for me.

Sure enough, when I walked into her room without knocking, she was lying on the bed, listening to her iPod. She'd kicked her flip-flops to the floor—not that there was much floor to be seen, the room was such a disaster zone of discarded clothing, school books, knickknacks, CDs, you name it. She looked up at me through her eyelashes, raising her eyebrows slightly. The look said "what now?" and was absolutely dripping with boredom. I motioned to her to take off her headphones and sat on the end of her bed.

"Come here," I said, quietly. Lauren didn't move. When I turned to look at her over the shoulder of my blue button-down, I saw that she'd taken off the headphones, but wasn't budging. "Come here," I said again, a little louder, as if she hadn't heard me the first time.

"Where?" She asked, an edge to her voice.

Sighing, I answered. "Lauren, get off the bed and come stand in front of me. Now." From the tone of the word 'now' there could be no doubt that I meant business.

Slowly, she started to move, sliding her long legs over the side of the bed, standing, and coming around to stand in front of me.

"Dad, I'm really sorry..." I cut her off with a hand gesture, a slicing motion through the air. Using the name 'Dad' was a ploy on her part; usually she treated me to a snide 'Jim', though her mom had wanted her to call me Dad since they moved in eight years ago.

"Lie down across my lap, Lauren," I said, looking up at her as I spoke. Again, her mouth dropped open.

"Wh-What?" She almost whispered the word.

"Lauren, you've ignored my rules. You've shown zero regard for my house. You've treated my rudely and inconsiderately, and yet I've always tried to treat you fairly. I've given you the chance to show you're responsible, nearly an adult. And yet over and over you've proven yourself incapable of handling that kind of responsibility. So, I find I have no other choice but to treat you like a spoiled child. Now, I'm going to punish you like a child. LIE DOWN ACROSS MY LAP." I reached up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into me. Lauren was fairly tall, probably about 5'7" and leggy, but slim, and no match for my strength. It didn't take much to force her down over my knees.

She did fight; I'll give her that. She thrashed her arms and legs like crazy, and her mouth ran a mile a minute.

"You're going to spank me?! You're crazy. I'll call mom. She'll call the police on you. They'll drag you to jail, you asshole. How dare you. I'm not a child. I'm 18 years old. I can sue you for assault..." And on and on. Through the litany I held her down with my left forearm, silently listening to her rant. Finally, she stopped moving, and shouting.

"Lauren, I should have done this a long time ago." I reached over my arm and pulled her short skirt up around her waist, a motion that set her off again. This time, I yanked a handful of her hair into my fist and pulled hard. "Be quiet, Lauren." She yelped, but quieted down. I let go of her hair and pulled her panties, a pair of skimpy white string-bikinis I'd seen in the wash many times, down around her lower thighs.

Now that her ass was exposed, I realized I'd never actually given a spanking, although I'd received quite a few as a child. Usually my mother had done the honors, a few quick swats over her knee, though on one or two occasions she'd grabbed her hairbrush. When my father was the one on the other end of the punishment, the smacks were much harder, and I could till remember the sound of his hand Whack! against my skin. For especially egregious offenses, he'd used his belt. I'd spare Lauren that pain today, but gazing at her firm young bottom, nicely bronzed except for a triangle of lighter skin where her bikini had been, I wondered whether Beth had taken her wooden hairbrush with her when she'd left; I'd have to look later.

Of course I was tempted to touch the taut skin, but instead I raised my hand and brought it down in hard, quick succession on first one cheek then the other. Lauren cried out with every stroke, but I didn't slow until I'd rained about twenty smacks on each side. Her bottom was flushed red, and she was squirming and crying as I held her down against my khaki covered thighs.

"Please, please, Jim, no more...please stop." She begged, as I paused. She sounded so pathetic I nearly gave in. Then I remembered the way she'd looked at me when I walked into her room, and decided the job wasn't nearly done.

"Lauren, this is the only way I know to impress upon you that your behavior is unacceptable. And from now on, this is the way we're going to handle that kind of behavior." I ran my hand over her ass, feeling the hot, smooth skin under my fingers. "I don't like to hurt you, but you've left me no choice." Smack! Smack! Smack! I began spanking her again, back and forth between her rosy cheeks, until my hand started to sting. After about 20 more blows I paused again. Lauren had stopped thrashing and trying to get away, and was now merely squirming, but in a different way. Her legs had parted, and I could see the lightly furred lips of her pussy: swollen, open, and...undeniably wet.

Now, I've seen Lauren parading around this house for eight years, frequently in almost total undress. She was the kind of girl who slept in panties and a tank top, and wore a tiny bikini in the summer, with no regard to who might be looking. Shorts were short, skirts were shorter. And I can honestly say I never thought twice about her, other than to wish her mother would ask her to dress more appropriately. Generally speaking, I prefer older women...it's the suburban moms in their short tennis skirts I lust after, not teenage girls.

But now, looking down at Lauren's exposed sex, her pert little ass warmed by my hand...well, let's just say I'd never been more aroused in my life. I felt myself growing hard, and hoped she couldn't feel my erection forming against her waist. I almost ended it right there; but I felt I had a job to do. Lauren was beaten but not broken, and I wanted to break her today—and hope I never had to do this again.

"Are you ready to finish this?" I spoke quietly, stroking her ass as I waited for her reply. I heard her swallowing, trying not to cry. She still didn't want me to know I'd won.

"No," she spat.

I grabbed her hair again and pulled her head up, tilting it so she had to look at me. Tears had etched streaks into her cheeks, and her eyes glistened.

"What did you say?"

"I mean...yes...end it...please!" She let herself go limp against me, and I released her hair.

"Tell me," I said."

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me why I had to do this."

"Because I trashed the house."

"More."

Lauren sobbed. "Because I dressed like a slut and left the house a mess and was rude to you..." She choked on the words.

"And you deserved to be spanked for it."

"Y-yes."

"Tell me."

"I deserved to be spanked for my behavior."

"Good. Now, I want you to ask me to finish spanking you."

Lauren was crying, wet, snuffling sounds.

"Please, Jim. Please finish spanking me."

I didn't speak, just rubbed my hand over the inflamed red skin on her ass, occasionally letting my hand dip ever so slightly between her parted thighs. She opened them a little wider. As soon as she did, I raised my hand again, and finished what I'd started, spanking her ass harder and longer than I had before, until it was bright red and she was moaning and begging me to stop. After she'd caught her breath, I started rubbing again, and talking at the same time. I told her all the things I'd disagreed with her mother about, how things never would have come to this if she'd just disciplined here daughter now and again, how I wasn't going to put up with her rudeness anymore, how if she wanted to live with me until she was 18 she could but she had to stay under my rules, how if she broke them, she'd have my punishments to face up to. Finally, I was talked out. I'd been gently rubbing and stroking her burning cheeks the whole time, but now I stopped, resting my hand on her lower back, on top of the pushed-up skirt.

Lauren wriggled a little across my lap. "Don't stop....that feels so good," she moaned. I was only half surprised. I had a good view of my stepdaughter's pussy between her open thighs, and in fact I'd been focusing on the slick pink lips as I'd finished the spanking. I knew this unexpected situation was arousing her as much as it was me—and I was rock hard.

"This feels good?" I asked, as I languidly stroked up and down each cheek, each pass of my hand moving closer in toward the cleft of her ass, and lower onto her upper thighs, so that finally I was running my fingers between her buttocks, and down over her wet sex.

"Mmmmm..." Was all Lauren said.

Instead of moving back up to her ass, I ran my fingertips down her right inner thigh, then back up the left one, until they again reached that soft, pink flower. And there I lingered, lightly brushing the surface, nicely lubricated with Lauren's excitement, until I could resist temptation no longer: I ran two fingers between her lips until they found the pearl I'd been looking for—her stiff, needy clit.

Lauren still didn't say anything, but she rotated her hips against my hand and groaned as I started to trace light circles around the outside of her tingling nub, occasionally letting my fingers cross over its tip, each time eliciting another mew from Lauren.

"And this feels good?" I asked, as I continued working her clit. "Tell me, Lauren...otherwise I'm going to stop." Of course the last thing I wanted was to stop—I felt like I was on the verge of explosion any second, myself—but I wanted to hear her say it. Silence. I pulled my hand away and shifted as if I wanted to stand up.

Lauren twisted on my lap to look up at me. Her face was red; her lips were puffy and parted.

"Don't stop. Please...don't stop."

"When we're done here, you're going to clean up this room. And then you're going to come downstairs and clean the mess you left there. Understood?" I tried to make my voice as stern and commanding as I possibly could.

"Anything...anything...just, please...don't stop." Her voice was breathy and pleading.

Now, as many issues as I'd had with my stepdaughter, I certainly couldn't resist that plea. I returned my hand to its work between her tan thighs, this time positioning my thumb on her clit, and sliding a finger slowly inside her cunt. I didn't think Lauren was a virgin (I'd overheard her talking to her girlfriends too many times to harbor that illusion), but God, was her pussy tight. I almost came right then, feeling the walls of her cunt clenching around my index finger. And I've never felt a woman as wet as she was then; It was like plunging my finger inside an overripe peach, hot and oozing from sitting outside in the sun all day. It felt glorious. Evidently, Lauren agreed, because she purred, low and long, and her pussy tightened even more around my probing finger.

I started to fuck her with it, deep, insistent strokes sliding in and out, loosening up her warm, rich cave. Soon, I slid my middle finger in alongside the other, all the while maintaining consistent pressure on her slippery clit with my thumb. It didn't take more than a minute for Lauren's pussy to start spasming around my fingers, as her hips bucked and writhed against my hand, gasps and cries of pleasure floating up to me as she came, hard. I kept up my tender assault on her juicy hole as the waves of her orgasm subsided, only stopping when she was once again limp on my lap, and flinched every time my thumb caressed her now super-sensitive clit.

"Well, Lauren," I said. "You see, spankings aren't all bad, are they?" I brought my hand out from between her legs and I swear, the sight of her juices dripping from my fingers made me twice as hard as I had been before, if that were even possible. I ran my fingers through her hair and down her back. "You can sit up now." Lauren didn't move for a minute, just lay there, heaving against my legs. Then, finally, she bent her knees, and slid off my lap until she was kneeling on my left side. She rested her head on my thigh, still recovering, I thought. But her head was turned toward me, and she had a clear view of my hard cock bulging along my thigh. And when she looked up into my eyes and moved her hand from her side to my crotch, it was my turn to raise my eyebrows. I couldn't believe it was happening, and yet, there was my problem stepchild, tracing the outline of my erection through my pants.

"I think you enjoyed it too, Dad," she said, a half-smile playing across her lips, the word 'Dad' laced with a lazy, seductive irony. I couldn't say anything, I was too transfixed by her slender fingers making their slow progress down my swollen shaft, and by the wet spot growing down by the tip of my penis as precum soaked through my pants. Instead, I just nodded. Lauren, shifted herself around in front of me, wincing a little as she moved—I'm sure her sore ass made every movement painful, as I'd intended...I wanted her to have a reminder of this moment for at least a day—settling between my legs. She placed a hand on each knee, and slid her nails up my inner thighs, skating over my bulging dick on the way to my belt buckle.

Now it was my turn to groan, as Lauren opened my pants, pushed my boxers down, and released my throbbing cock. I was pleased to see her pause in surprise as she held it in her small hand: fully erect, with a fat dark pink head, and a thick, veined shaft, my 7-inch friend never failed to do me proud. I was still smiling as she ran her fingers from its base to the head, dipping one into the leaking goo at the tip and bringing it to her lips. I watched as she sucked the finger into her mouth, closing her eyes as if it were the most delicious nectar she'd ever tasted.

Either this girl had been watching a lot of porn, or she was a born cocksucker, because a moment later when her lips surrounded my swollen glans and her mouth descended slowly over my shaft, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Now, Beth, my wife, gave decent head. Not often enough, but when she obliged, I'd never had cause to complain. Lauren had her mom beat, hands down. The magic she worked with that mouth was unlike anything I'd ever felt. Of course it wasn't just her mouth...she knew just how to use her hands, too, teasing and squeezing my balls, moving the skin at the base of my shaft up and down just so, and basically driving me fucking wild—as I wondered just how many teenaged boys she'd treated to this trick. I was close to climax in no time—after all, I'd been sitting there with a hard cock for what seemed like forever as I'd spanked her hot little ass, and, honestly, it was a miracle I hadn't cum just from that. However, as soon as Lauren could sense me nearing the edge she pulled me out of her mouth.