9 comments/ 71400 views/ 74 favorites My Stepmom's a Fox, But... By: MaryAnderson This started as the final chapter of another story, but that story veered in a direction unexpected. As such, I have re-done it as a standalone tale. I hope you enjoy. * * * * You noticed Selena. Of Hispanic ancestry, she was short, maybe five feet, four inches tall, with a curvy hourglass figure, wide face, big brown eyes, good lips, and nice round tits. I suspected a boob job. Her dark hair ended in long curls that ran past her shoulder blades. She was twenty-four; her presentation was youthful, but not childish. She was also a flirt. I considered inviting her to my bed, but saner thoughts prevailed. Fucking Dad's staff seemed a bad idea and there was something about her I couldn't figure out, something worrisome. I used my key to get into Dad's office one weekend, I needed to use the bathroom, and found Selena sprawled over her desk, Dad fucking her from behind. Caught red-handed, Dad confessed the affair to Mom and asked for a divorce. I've often wondered if I'd backed out of the office quietly that day whether Dad would have gotten Selena out of his system. Dad had cheated on Mom before. Mom wasn't stupid; I figured that, by pretending not to know, she forced him to keep it low-key. And I, by walking in on it, blew it all to hell. Mom was devastated. Then it got worse. Mom and Dad shared the same social circle and Selena insisted on accompanying Dad everywhere. While a few friends stuck with Mom, most of society gravitated to Dad and his new companion. It was Dad, after all, who was the successful businessman, the patron of the arts, the champion of civic responsibility. He kept half a dozen of the city's most prominent charities afloat. During Christmas Mom visited her mother in Florida, returning to town only occasionally, leaving me home alone the rest of my senior year. It seemed obvious to everyone but Dad that Selena loved the money. Before the proposal she said she wanted to continue working. After the proposal she quit, claiming to be overwhelmed by the demands of planning a wedding. While she said she was uninterested in material things, she allowed that the future bride of such a successful man needed to project a certain image; her credit card bills became staggering. Her small Japanese car was traded in for a Mercedes. As to her engagement ring, Dad didn't pick out that gaudy thing. One final complaint. Selena used my anger at Dad to create an "us versus them mentality." Visits with Dad became difficult and unpleasant. She wasn't rude, it was passive-aggressive stuff. She'd insist on accompanying us to a football game, but become so antsy by the third quarter that we'd leave. She'd put Mom down, forcing me to either ignore the taunt or confront her in front of Dad. My room in the new house became her storeroom, my bed covered with her detritus, my closet stuffed with her clothes. * * * * The day before my high school graduation Bobby Jones, a friend who'd just finished his first year at the University of Alabama, dropped by Dad's house. Selena and Sarah, her best friend, had just returned from the mall. Bobby helped them unload. I figured he was checking out the chicks, but as we drove off he said, "I think I know those ladies." Bobby made a few quick calls then showed me a video a fraternity brother forwarded Bobby's phone. It was Selena and Sarah, dressed in skin-tight clothes, dancing with an array of guys. It turns out that the two of them had occasionally shown up at Tide Pride, a bar frequented by Bobby's fraternity, partied, and picked out two studs, taking them back to their hotel for some blow-down-the-walls sex. The word was that the girls liked it hard and rough. They'd stopped coming around the beginning of the school year, which was about the time Dad had started screwing Selena. I considered telling Dad, but our relationship was already strained and I couldn't think of an upside. Selena had stopped going. * * * * I worked that summer as a camp counselor in the North Carolina mountains. I enjoyed the outdoors and the kids, but most of all I enjoyed Renee, a Duke grade student in forest biology who was conducting research at a station near the camp. Twenty-five years old, she was of Scandinavian stock. Her blonde hair, which was so light it was almost white, ran past her shoulders. She had sky blue eyes and a clean bright complexion. Her chin and jaw were oversized, a "cocksucker's mouth" she'd say with a smile. She was six inches shorter than my six foot two inch frame and while she packed a few more pounds on her backside than ideal, they were balanced by her large round melon-like breasts. She was a country girl, raised on a farm, with a sweet unpretentious personality, a soft, almost hick, Southern accent, and a hippie sensibility, all of which masked her powerful intelligence. She also loved sex. All the time. In ways I'd never imagined. I wasn't sure why I had been selected as the summer's fuck-mate; there were plenty of willing guys around. Best I could figure I (a) also loved to fuck, (b) was willing to let an older wiser more-experienced woman take the lead, (c) never told her what to do, (d) could go at it for hours, and (e) had a big, if not porn-sized, cock. It wasn't all sex; we became friends. I told her about the failure of my parents' marriage - my anger at Dad, by resentment of Selena, how I blamed myself - and found compassion and wisdom. I fantasized about us staying together, but Renee was nothing if not grounded in reality. When I got too starry-eyed she'd remind me it was a summer fling. Dad, who was heading for the airport for an overnight trip, bought me lunch the day I got back from camp. I told him about my summer romance. That night, missing Renee, I stayed up late drinking too many beers. I was woken by my phone. The text from Bobby said only, "Check this out - call ASAP." Attached was a video, dated the night before, of Selena and Sarah dancing with some college-aged guys. Through a throbbing hangover I called Bobby, who said the video was taken by a fraternity brother who, with a buddy, had spent the night with the ladies. They still liked their sex rough. I called Renee; she was older and wiser. I told her what I knew and sent her the video. She called back, asked about the girls. When I mentioned Bobby's comment, that Selena and Sarah liked their sex hard, Renee's tone quickened. "Tell me more." I told her I didn't know more. She sent me a text with further inquiries; I forwarded it to Bobby. He responded, she sent several follow-ups. Finally my phone rang. Bobby had lined up some of the guys who'd slept with Selena and Sarah. I hooked Renee onto the line and she spent ninety minutes peppering them with questions. After they hung up she called me back. "I think your step-mother's a submissive." "What's a submissive?" "A submissive? A submissive is a woman whose, well, natural sexual state is to relinquish control, to find a man or woman to whom she can surrender. I know it sounds like a contradiction, but its only when she does so that she finds peace and freedom, she can blossom only when deprived of choice. She usually needs her dominant to drag her there; she's probably too weak to defy society's rules on her own. Once there her universe is defined by the strength of her dominant." I wasn't sure I understood, but said, "And you're saying that's Selena?" "I'd need to meet her before rendering a final judgment, but yes." "How do you know all this?" "I've been a dom. A teacher in high school, a professor in college, one of my aunts, my mother's best friend." "You never mentioned it." "Didn't come up. I've done a lot of things I haven't told you." I couldn't argue with that - she'd been the most innovative lover I'd known. Renee continued. "Alabama-Birmingham has asked me to present my summer's finding. Figure while I'm in town you and I could get some sack time. It would also be a chance to meet your step-mom." Renee back in my bed. Fuck yeah. * * * * Over the next couple of weeks Renee, amidst some great phone sex, taught a crash course in playing the dom. On Renee's first night in town - a Wednesday - Dad and Selena took us for ribs. The rest of the week, Dad mentioned, he'd be out-of-town. Selena, feeling competitive, had dressed to the nines. Renee wore jeans. Her unpretentious personality shone through and Dad was taken by this sweet low-maintenance woman. Selena's jealously was patent; she and Dad exchanged angry words that night. Renee also took the measure of my step-mom. Clearly, a submissive. During dinner I mentioned that Renee and I would stay in the city the next night. Selena noticed, then said she and Sarah would probably visit a friend in Tuscaloosa. * * * * Selena and Sarah had just finished dancing with two of the young studs under consideration for the evening's entertainment when Bobby, feigning surprise, introduced himself. They did not remember him; he said he'd met them that summer while visiting me. After polite small talk shouted over the pulsating music, Bobby excused himself. Sarah and Selena ducked outside. They were two randy bitches, but they couldn't pick up guys with Bobby around; he'd be sure to mention it to me. They headed home These two horny unfulfilled girls got home to find my car. The house was dark. They figured Renee and I had used her car and headed inside for a glass of wine, kvetching about Bobby, and to devise a cover story if Bobby told me he'd seen them in a college bar. The first thing they heard were the low guttural moans of raw sex. Being human, they tracked down the sound. I noticed them around 11:30 P.M., which means, if they drove straight home, they'd been watching for about fifteen minutes. They watched for another ninety. Selena witnessed a cock - much bigger than her husband's - bring Renee off over and over. She watched me perform cunninglingus - something Dad rarely did - until Renee begged me to stop. They watched me spew thick ropes of creamy sperm, grow hard again, and pound Renee like a piledriver. They watched me pay attention to every inch of Renee's anatomy, visiting not just breasts and genitalia, but hair and scalp, ears, lips, necks, hands, arms and fingers, the small of the back, the length of the spine, the fleshy cheeks of the buttocks, stomach, legs, thighs, the backs of knees, feet. Selena listened to a woman shout and yelp through orgasm after orgasm, a woman who, unlike her, never had to fake it. As the evening wore on she also watched me dominate my older lover. When I demanded that my slut fuck me harder, Renee fucked me harder. When I told Renee how good my dick felt inside her, what a naughty nasty dirty little girl she was, told her how much she loved being fucked, commanded her to surrender her mind, body, and pussy, called her sex-doll, fuck-meat, fuck-toy, cum-rag, Renee screamed and came. By the end of the evening Renee's name had been forgotten; she was cunt, pussy, whore, harlot. She was bitch, pet, cum-bucket, cock-whore, cum-slut. She was naughty girl, baby girl, good girl, bad girl, little girl. Renee responded in kind. She begged to be fucked, imploring me to tear her apart with my dick. She whispered the nasty and the vile, renounced control of her body, pledged her cunt to her lover, her master, her king, her daddy. She begged to be reduced to chattel, to be fucked when, where, and how I pleased She came on command and when she did she screeched in joy as her body convulsed and shook. For the grand finale I tied Renee to Selena's bed and fucked her savagely. Sarah and Selena, the heat between their legs finally overwhelming their fascination with the our theater of of raw carnality, slipped out of the house, drove to Sarah's, raided her cache of sex toys and, dildos in hand, headed for separate bedrooms to try to extinguish the nuclear reaction burning between their legs. Selena would fall asleep that night knowing the cock she had - my father's - was nothing compared to my heavy artillery. She knew her husband would never be able to satisfy her again. She knew the next time her husband she returned to Tuscaloosa to pick up an eighteen year old, she'd get second rate material. And she knew one more thing, something more subtle, but something that would take root in her subconscious. Selena had imagined she was a good fuck - she'd had no complaints - but she'd seen Renee in action; she knew she was no match for Renee's raw sexuality, that she could never go as long or as hard. She knew she was inadequate. * * * * Renee, who had expressed an interest in visiting Dad's business, offered to pick him up at the airport Friday morning and drive him to work before heading over to Alabama-Birmingham. Selena hadn't liked it, but muzzled her dissent. She didn't want to act the jealous shrew. Moreover, Renee was heading back to North Carolina the next day. I walked into Dad's house at 10:00 A.M. Shoeless, dressed in her favorite blue jeans and a white cotton tank top with no bra, Selena was sitting in the kitchen idly shopping on-line, her mind fixated on what she'd seen the night before. She'd already masturbated once that morning. When I entered the kitchen Selena, unconsciously, blushed and licked her lips. She stood, arched her back; her eyes dilated, her nipples outlined in her shirt. Her first question revealed what she'd been thinking about. "Did you and Renee have a good time in the city last night?" I poured a cup of coffee and stepped towards her. Selena, discomforted, stepped back. "Steven, what's going on?" When I didn't answer she added, "I don't have time to play games." I stepped towards her, touched her cheek. She stared back, unsure of what to do, waiting for me to respond. I took a sip of coffee, placed the cup on the counter behind her, and stepped into her personal space. "Steven, what's wrong. Speak up or get out. I'm busy." There was a hint of panic in her voice. I glanced at her computer, letting her know I knew what she'd been doing, that "busy" was, perhaps, an exaggeration. Then, without a word, I leaned forward, thrust my tongue into her mouth. Selena's eyes combined shock and confusion. She was beginning to get it: I knew she'd spied on me last night. I stepped back and waited, letting the suppositions and questions bounce around her mind. Then, my gaze locked on her, I said, "Step-mommy you know the answer to that question. We didn't go to the city. We fucked, all night long, even had an audience. You hung around long enough. Enjoy the show?" She twiddled with her hair. Alarm was evident in her voice when she said, "Oh gosh, I mean, we didn't mean to barge in, its just that..." I didn't let her finish. I covered her mouth, kissing her aggressively. She didn't return the kiss, but she didn't pull away. I stepped back and looked into her eyes, my stare boring into her. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She dropped her head, looked at the floor, tried to calm herself. "You didn't answer my question, step-mommy. Did you enjoy the show? I dug the audience. Renee did too." Selena's face went ashen, then she tried to gain control of the conversation. "Steven, you were in my home. I had every right to ..." I interrupted her, my tone harsh. "From now on call me sir." Selena didn't know what to do. She looked around the room, searching for someone, something, that might rescue her, struggling to damp down her racing heart, to slow down events. When she opened her mouth I stepped forward, pressed my body to hers, kissed her. Her lips parted. I pulled her to me and slid my tongue in her mouth. My hands went to the bottom of her tank top. "Please don't," she whispered. I hooked a thumb under the tank top, sliding it in one motion over her tummy and breasts, over her head, onto her back. It stretched from arm to arm behind her. Her chest and tits were exposed. It restricted her movement, unconsciously affirming who was in charge. I reached for her breasts. Sitting high on her chest, they were lovely, teardrop-shaped. The skin dark and tawny, there was a scattering of birth marks. The areolas were chocolate brown and capped by smallish nipples. I touched them; they flooded with blood. "I asked a question. Did you and Sarah enjoy the show? You certainly hung around long enough. You were supposed to be picking up frat boys at Alabama." Panic ripped through her mind. How did I know? What had Bobby said? Would I tell Dad? Distracted by these thoughts, distracted by my hands on her breasts, Selena stammered out her response. "I don't know what you're talking about. We just decided to go dancing; then called it an early night. We're sorry for spying on you, its just, its just..." I trapped a nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeezed, not hard enough to damage, but hard enough to establish who was in charge. "The question was whether you enjoyed the show?" Gasping in response, unable to focus enough to frame a lie, the truth spilled out. "Yes, I've never seen anything like that, ever." I leaned forward and kissed her. Tentatively at first, she returned the kiss. I released her nipple and, in a swift sure motion, unsnapped her jeans and pushed them over the curve of her hips and ass. They fell to her ankles. Just as her tank top restricted the movement of her arms, the jeans shackled her legs. "Where did you to go after you left?" "Sarah's. You need to stop. I'm married to your father." "So was Mom, that didn't stop you. How did you masturbate? Did you use you fingers? A dildo? Did you eat each other out?" Selena must have gleamed the consequences of my question. If she acknowledged how aroused she'd been, that she'd masturbated, I'd know I could have her. If she told me the truth she'd admit how much watching me dominate my older lover turned her on. She'd be letting me know, despite any objection she might voice, that it was okay, inviting me to do the same to her, to force myself on her, asking me to ignore any phony protest she might makes. She wanted to be deprived of choice; she craved the kind of fucking I'd given Renee. Half-baked thoughts must have cascaded through her head. Should she surrender to the feelings that had been burning through her since last night, the memories that had recycled in her mind, the desire to be fucked like I'd fucked Renee? Had my comment about my mother shamed her, rendering her unable to lie? Did she rationalize her decision, decide that I was going to take her anyway, so she might as well capitulate? Shaking, unable to meet my gaze, she diverted her eyes and gave in, dragging her friend under the bus with her. "Yes, we both did. I took one of Sarah's vibrators and went to the guest bedroom. I brought myself off over and over, lost count. I couldn't get the image of you fucking that girl out of my mind." "You forgot sir." Her voice low and weak, "Sir." "Been thinking about it all morning?" "Yes sir." "Kiss me." Standing on her toes, she pressed her mouth to mine. Her body, as if acting on its own, molded itself to me; I could feel the heat of her skin. When the tip of my tongue probed the outline of her mouth she parted her lips, inviting me in. The kiss went on, growing deeper, more sensual. Wetness gathered between her legs. She moaned. I kissed her again, more roughly. She brought her tongue to my lips and tried to coax them apart. I stepped back. She looked at me through hooded eyes. Breathing heavily through a half-open mouth, she ran her tongue over her lips, passively waiting for instruction. I grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her forcefully. The tip of her tongue flicked against mine. She moaned, tiny barely perceptible moans. She surrendered, lost in the kiss, lost in the force of my personality. My tongue took possession of her mouth, probing it, exploring it, claiming every crevice. My Stepmom's a Fox, But... Then, abruptly, I ended the kiss and reached down, stroking her thighs in long slow motions, then dragged my hand across her stomach to her flushed breasts. I tugged on her nipples. My hand retreated, revisited her stomach and legs, moved to the inside of her thighs. Two fingers entered her wet warm pussy. She gasped, her knees buckled. "My my, we're a horny little girl, aren't we step-mommy?" She closed her eyes. I slid my fingers in and out. Her pussy lips yielded, her juice flowed, she squeezed her cunt walls, she issued a low long moan. I stepped back. Her hips rocked forward, trying to re-claim the forbidden contact. "You're a piece of ass," I said. Breathing heavily, she said nothing. "What are you? She opened her eyes. "Piece of ass." I raised an eyebrow. "Piece of ass, sir." I did not respond. She struggled, trying to discern what she'd done wrong. Then it dawned on her. Carefully enunciating each word, Selena said in a slow sexy voice, "I am a piece of ass, sir." "Good girl." "Thank you, sir." "Turn around." Her jeans still at her ankles, she shuffled around. I knelt, reached between her legs, and played with the entrance of her pussy. Selena swayed into my hand. I inserted two fingers in her cunt; she moaned. "Do you let those college boys fuck you up the ass." "No." I was surprised by her tone. There was no equivocation; the idea clearly repulsed her. God to know. "No what." Her voice faltered, drifting back to the weak and submissive, "No sir." She 'd said her backside was forbidden ground. Now it was time to show her it didn't matter. I withdrew my finger from her pussy, rubbed the lubricated digit over her anus, forced it inside. She was tight, real tight. I pulled the fingertip from her asshole and rubbed her fanny. "Piece of ass," I said. She said, "Piece of ass," adding, after a beat, added, "sir." I reached for a breast, mashed the tit flesh into her chest, gave her other boob the same treatment. She leaned forward. When my hand left her chest she whimpered in disappointment, only to moan when I drove three fingers into her pussy. She gyrated her hips on my hand. I stood and, palm spread wide, smacked her ass. Selena jumped. Bobby had said Selena and Sarah liked to be tied up, but did not allow spankings. Well, at least, she hadn't. Selena squirmed, half-saying, half-mouthing, "Please don't sir." My hand came down again. She balled up her fists - her arms were still pinned behind her back - and wriggled against the kitchen counter. Selena grimaced; the sensation was more startling than painful. I brought my hand down again; there was another resounding smack. A hot flare of excitement flashed through Selena. She was surprised by her reaction, how could it hurt and be pleasant at the same time? She wiggled her backside, trying to comprehend what was happening. When I smacked her again a short sharp gasp escaped her lips. Questions flashed through her mind. How had I done this to her, how did I know she'd react this way, how had I made her feel this way? How could I understand her better than she understood herself? Frightened by her own response, she felt small and helpless and powerless, at my mercy, starting to believe she deserved this humiliation. I spanked her with a slow steady rhythm. She jerked with each blow; her ass glowed with a fiery heat, a heat that spread through her in small invasive waves. Before long, her pussy twitched at each stroke, her clit throbbed steadily. The feeling was primal, beyond her ability to understand. Her mind and body had disassociated. Without quite being aware she was doing it, she angled her hips up, offering me her butt each time I brought my hand down. She was moaning. I reached for her cunt, probing her sex, pushing deeper. Her pussy was drenched, tumescent. It was time for a little taunting. "Well step-mommy, I thought you didn't like being spanked. Thought it was dirty, degrading, perhaps? But maybe that's the point, you want to be degraded. You're such an incorrigible little slut. You've loved everything I've done to you." I brought my hand down again and white-hot sensations flared through her. Any attempt her mind might make to escape her subjugation was undermined, betrayed by the needs of her body. I treated her like an object; then she must be an object. Her pussy synchronized to the spanking, spasming with each stroke. I moved my hand to her clit. She moaned, the sound more animal than human. I rammed three fingers into her cunt. She thrust forward, impaling herself on my hand, rubbing her clit into my palm. The walls of her pussy shook. Cunt cream covered my hand. Selena started groaning, broadcasting her need for more. "Aaaaaah...Aaah, Aaaaaaaaahhhhh.. Aaaaaahhhh, Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh... Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh." "You're a cunt, a whore." Smack "Aaaaaaah...Aaaah, Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh.. Aaaaaaahhhh, Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh... Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh." "You're pussy, mouth, asshole, tits." Smack. "Aaaaaaaah...Aaaaah, Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhh.. Aaaaaaaahhhh, Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh... Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh." "Say it." Smack. "Sir, I'm pussy, aaaahhhhh, mouth, aaaaahhhhhhh, asshole, aaaaaahhhhhhhhh, tits, aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." "Come my little slut." Smack. And as I said it she knew that's what she required, permission. Her body flushed; she babbled, "Oh Sir, fucking god yes, fuck yes, fuck yes, my fucking slut whore cunt body is fucckinngggg cuuuummmmmminnnnggggggggggggg," as she was buffeted by a powerful orgasm. She stiffened, wiggled and shook, squirted pussy juice. Then, after a final convulsion, she collapsed, laying inert on the counter, presenting herself like a mid-morning snack. I turned her around. "I know all about you and Sarah, I know about how you cruise college bars, pick up kids, fuck them." Her eyes opened. I planted two fingers in her pussy. I twisted a nipple. "That's going to stop." Twist. "Oooohhh." "From now on you're my slut. Say it!" Twist. "Unnhhhm, I'm your slut sir." "My cunt." Twist. "Uuuunnnhhhhhhh, your cunt sir." "Slut-whore." Twist. "Uuuunnnnnhhhhhhhhhh, your slut-whore, your piece of ass, sir." She started humping my fingers. I pressed her clit to her body. "Uuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhh uuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." "Your cunt will always be ready for my dick." The pain and pleasure had transported her to another world. She shut her eyes, preoccupied by her body's depraved needs. When I increased the pressure on her nipple she opened her eyes, looked at me, realizing she was supposed to have said something, but was far to addled to know what. "I don't know sir, I'm sorry." I withdrew my finger from her sex; she needed it back; she struggled to recall what I'd said. Then there was a glimmer in her eyes; through the fog of desire and humiliation she remembered. "Yes, yes, whenever you want sir, fuck me. That's what my cunt is for, that's what I'm for." "I own you, I own your cunt." My fingers returned to her pussy. She moaned, "Yes, yes, I understand sir. Own me, own my cunt." I worked her clit; the fire in her belly burned brighter; she whimpered, a bitch dog in heat. Another orgasm found her. It started small, little waves of pleasure rippling outward from her clit, but grew exponentially. She screamed, her voice echoed off the kitchen walls, her body convulsed, her pussy clamped tight on my fingers. I allowed her no time to recover. I stepped back, grabbed her long curly hair, and headed for the dining room. Her jeans were still bunched around her ankles and she tripped and staggered behind me. Once there I scattered the figurines that decorated our antique mahogany dining room table to the floor. "Lose the pants." She removed her right leg from her jeans and kicked them away. "Lay down." She eased herself onto the table. "Spread your legs." Awkwardly - her movements still restricted by the tank top - she complied. I undid my belt, unzipped my pants, took my cock in my hand, stroked its length. "Last night, you enjoyed the show, now you can't stop thinking about my fat dick, can you?" Her eyes were riveted on my meat. She ran her tongue along her lips. When she began her affair with Dad she had thought his wealth and security would allow her to put her wild days behind her. When she realized she was wrong, she bull-shitted herself, justifying her dalliances with younger men as serving her marriage, letting her fulfil desires she could not suppress. But that had not been the end of her journey. Last night and this morning I'd shown her how truly depraved she was. She was on her back, desperate to be taken. Last night I'd fucked Renee with a savagery and power that left Selena longing to take Renee's place. Selena wanted to be a fuck-toy. She wanted to be helpless so she told herself she was helpless. She wanted me in control; she didn't want choice. I looked at her, admiring her beautiful naked body. True, it was the almost accidental beauty of youth, not finely and carefully crafted. Bits of baby fat clung to her frame. She had hooked her husband, her attention had drifted to other things. That would change. She was now responsible for a body I owned, she would be devoted to its upkeep. I looked into her eyes. There was little resistance, little strength, there. Renee's plan was unfolding to perfection. My hot little step-mom was on her way to becoming a possession. I placed the palm of her hand over her cunt and rotated it, teasing the soft labial lips. Her flesh quivered; she shivered. I scissored two fingers into her. "I know Dad wants more children. I know before the marriage you said you did, but now you're saying no. Are you on birth control? Her face flushed. She understood the importance of my question. I quickened the movement of my fingers inside her and pulled the skin above her clitoris taut, exposing the erect nub of flesh. Selena mewled and jerked her hips; a slave to her body's cravings. "No sir, I make your father wear a condom." I buried another finger in her, stretching the walls of her twat. Her pussy lips swelled and fully opened, displaying the pink skin within. Selena bucked her hips, her moans louder, more passionate. Her body flushed and glowed, her eyes glazed with need. I drove another finger into her. The heel of my hand buffeted her clit. Then I stopped. She looked at me. She knew what I wanted to hear. She didn't hesitate, seizing the opportunity to debase herself. "Please don't stop sir. I need it." I gave her a look, the kind that says is that the best you've got. "My whore body, my slut body, they need it. Please sir." I smiled, a cruel smile. "You'd like to cum, wouldn't you?" "Yes sir." I withdrew my fingers from her pussy. She stared, lowered her head, and in a barely audible voice said, "Please Sir." "What was that? I couldn't hear you." "Please sir, please make me come, let me come." "No, not yet." She started slowly, but soon the words poured from her, the act of humiliating herself stoking the fire in her belly. "Please, please sir, make me come. Make me come, let me come. I need it. I'm such a whore, your whore. I'm your slut. Just please, please, please let me come." I grinned, gloated, and pushed three fingers into her snatch. I squeezed her swollen clitoris between index finger and thumb. Selena kept talking. She was unable to stop; the acknowledgment of her own depravity had become aphrodisiacal. "Oh shit sir, love it! I love it! I need it! I need it so bad. Do it, do it, please do it to step-mommy. I'm such a slut. I'm such a whore. I'm going to come all over your beautiful step-mommy-fucking-fingers!" She bucked and squirmed, relishing the sexual assault. Her body began convulsing; she was out of control, wildly humping my hand. She screamed, there was one final body wrenching spasm, and she twisted and flopped on the table, consumed by another orgasm. At first the idea of seducing Selena had seemed crazy, but the more Renee and I discussed it, the more we brain-stormed, the more I liked it. Now Selena was laying before me, her body flush, drops of sweat rolling off her, her fine tits heaving as she sucked in air. I took my cock in my hand. Selena stared at it, her eyes smoldered, glazed with need. I squeezed it, pulled on it, stretched it, worked my fist up and down its length. Selena squirmed and made little gasping sounds. I tore the shirt off her body, freeing her arms. "Please, please, fuck me sir." I pushed her thighs apart and stepped forward. When the tip of my cock touched her pussy lips, she jumped. The million thoughts racing through her head - guilt, doubt, remorse, fear - crumbled before need, hunger, lust. I was peeling her down to her core. I entered her in a single forceful motion. She came instantly, yelping like a dog. I did not stop; I pounded her pussy in deep long strokes. She gripped the side of the table and came again. Her head rolled from side to side, her hair whipped back and forth; she gasped for breath as my thick meat penetrated her, pressing its assault. I slid my cock from her pussy. "Who do you belong to cunt." "You sir." I slammed back into her. Her body bounced. She was dripping wet; juice ran down her leg. She yowled in a noise animal, but unmistakably feminine, and pushed her hips into mine. I fucked her hard. She writhed and twisted. I had absolute control of her body, reinforcing her feeling of helplessness. I fucked her harder. She twitched and moaned, her body shook, she sobbed, "Oh god yes, please, please, please, please fuck me, fuck me sir." "You're a sex slave. You live for cock." Her cunt clenched around my dick; the tingle grew in her belly. Her nipples were taut, juice leaked around the sides of my cock, pooling on the dark wood. She sighed and moaned and rocked her hips; she spread her legs, further opening herself to me. She wailed incoherently. "You're a sex slave. You live for cock. You crave cum." She whimpered wordlessly as I punched my cock into her belly. She wrapped her legs around my waist. "What are you?" Stuttering, stammering, she said, "Sex slave, live for cock, crave cum." I twisted a nipple. She writhed; her body and soul, if not her conscious mind, savoring my assertion of control. She started shaking, chanting, "Slave, cock, cum, slave, cock, cum, slave, cock, cum, SLAVE, COCK, CUM, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, SIR I'M FUCKKINNGGG CUMMMMMIIINNNNNGGGGGG." Her pussy muscles clamped down, her fuck tunnel tightened, and I unloaded inside her, flooding her unprotected womb with my seed. She was consumed by a series of jagged explosions, orgasms driven by pleasure and pain, longing and shame, humiliation and surrender. I pulled out of her, watched her quiver and shake, watched her squirt cunt juice. Then it was over. She was limp. My dick was still thick with blood. Bobby had said Selena and Sarah were reluctant and cursory cock suckers. That would change. "Time to get it ready slut. Time to suck my dick." I pushed two fingers into her mouth, prying it open. "Wider little slut." She looked at me. There was fear her eyes. I withdrew my hand and she said, in barely a whisper, "Sir, I don't like to use my mouth." She sniffled, "I don't like it." "It's time you learned." I directed her to the floor. She knelt. I placed her hand on my cock. She squeezed. "Sir, it's huge." I said nothing. She understood. She had stated her objection, but it didn't matter; she still had to do it. She touched the tip of my penis with her index finger. She pulled it away and drew out a string of precum. She brought her thumb to her index finger, then separated them, the precum suspended between them. She stared at the thick liquid, then licked it off, acclimating herself to the taste. Cautiously, she looked up, opened her mouth, closed her eyes, moved forward. My cock bumped against her lips and continued inside, the cock-head pressing against the back of her mouth. She coughed, choked, and instinctively tried to pull back. She could not; I had a firm grip on her head. She took a second, tried to relax, breathed through her nose. A thin ribbon of drool leaked from the corner of her mouth. My dark musky scent and earthy taste, along with the feeling of having her mouth stuffed, overpowered her other senses. Another wave of helplessness washed over her. "Good girl, that's right. Take it." I put pressure on the back of her head, driving her forward. She gagged. I loosened my grip, she drew back a bit. I commenced sawing my cock in and out of her face, battering her mouth. "That's a good little whore. See how easy it is. This is what your mouth is for, to please cock." Selena's eyes teared up; she whimpered around the rod jammed into her face. I slowed the pace, prolonging the experience. As I did so Selena learned to relax her jaw. Her gagging and choking petered out. She looked up at me, lust evident in her eyes, being compelled to do what was repugnant adding fuel to the fire between her legs. "You're doing so much better little whore. You have a talented mouth. I'm going to love using it." For the first time she voluntarily forced her face over my prick, moving forward, clamping her lips around my cock meat. She ran her fingers up the skin of my inner thigh to the base of my cock, grabbing it, twisting her hand around it. She moaned around my tool, making wet slurping noises. "Mmmph grrph hrrph ymphs ddmmph." There was no longer a need for force; I released her head. "That's a good little slut. Move your head. Use your tongue. Apply suction." She hesitated for a moment, in partial-shock, flummoxed by how quickly her resistance had collapsed, stunned by how easily she'd given in. She knew that complying with my instructions she's acknowledge her capitulation, affirm that despite any objection she might make, she loved it, loved being forced and controlled. So that's what she did. She moved her head up and down my dick, at first tentatively, soon with fervor. She pressed her tongue to the underside of my shaft, focusing on the head. She began sucking, her cheeks hollowing with each up-stroke. She looked at me, her eyes begging for approval. Then I noticed she was squeezing her thighs together, working her cunt, trying to be subtle, trying to hide her arousal from me, hoping to retain a shred of dignity and autonomy. We couldn't have that. "Do you want to play with your cunt little slut." She looked up, aware that I'd seen here. She nodded, asking permission. I smiled. Her hand dipped between her legs; she fingered herself. "You love this, don't you little whore?" The fire between her legs burned with an intense blue flame; she had two fingers in her cunt and a thumb on her clit. She was desperate to come, to demonstrate her abasement. She bobbed her head up and down my manhood. Wet slurping sucking sounds filled the air, her tongue a whirling dervish of activity. She drove her face forward, making an inarticulate little grunt each time my cock banged into the entrance of her throat. "Look at me," I commanded. Selena did, locking her eyes on mine. I grabbed her head, immobilized it, and took over, humping into her, using her face as a fuck-toy, further depersonalizing her, reducing her to an object, something to jerk off into. Her hand moved faster on her cunt; she whipped her tongue around my dick, sucking with single-minded ferocity. I called her, "Fuck-toy, cum-bucket, whore, slave, slut, cum-rag." Enthraled by my words, frantically, ferociously, she drove four fingers in and out of her pussy. When her orgasm arrived she grunted around the cock stuffed in her face, her pussy twitched, wet warm wetness dripped down her thigh. I pulled her off my cock. Coughing and sputtering, she stared at the dick head. Her tongue went out, licking the air, wanting me back in her mouth. She pushed forward. I held her in place. My Stepmom's a Fox, But... "And you said you didn't like to suck cock. See how easy you are to break, to train." "Sir you didn't come. What did I do wrong?" "This cum is reserved for another place." I placed a hand under her arm, stood her up, leaned her face first over the table, and guided my throbbing cock to the gates of her asshole. She gasped in sudden fear. When the head of my cock reached the brown puckered opening she jerked forward, but she was trapped, she wasn't going anywhere. The tip pushed past her quivering sphincter. She moaned, bit her lower lip, grimaced in pain. Then she looked over her shoulder and apologized. "I'm sorry sir. I'm a virgin back there." I eased the cockhead in. She winced. I continued, entering her slowly, filling the dark tunnel with small forceful shoves. I wanted her to feel, to remember, every sensation as her body yielded to the unnatural intrusion. I kept going, each push a bit more vigorous than the one before. The fear that had initially crossed Selena's face dissolved. She appreciated my gentle careful entry, she knew she was right to give herself to me. And then the log that hung from my waist was buried in my step-mom's ass. I paused, looked down on her. She was panting. She was my cock-whore who'd surrendered herself to me as often as I wanted, whenever I wanted. I stroked my dick in and out of the forbidden hole, establishing a steady rhythm. As her asshole stretched and accommodated itself to me, I picked up the pace. I looked at the mirror. Selena followed my eyes, watching us. Did she recognize the woman there? The one whose eyes burned with twisted desire? The crazy slut who was being taken by her step-son? She started shoving back into me. I pounded her mercilessly; she snorted and writhed on the table. My body tensed and my thrusts became jerky and uneven. Selena took her breasts into her hands, squeezed them hard, twisted her nipples, craving the pain and humiliation. Selena's orgasm came in a series of waves. The first ripple flowed through and over her. Her cunt and asshole merged, enflaming nerve endings she didn't know existed. The next wave was bigger, promising more. She started grunting, "Unh, unh, unh, unh," and when the next wave came her voice descended to the bestial, "Unnnh! Unnnnhh! Unnnnnhhh! Unnnnnnhhhh!" When the next arrived, she whooped, "Oh my god, that's it, Here it is, oh god yes, Oh Yes, Oh fucking YES!" Then another wave, leveling her, letting her know the tsunami was near. Her voice pitched high, straining, she begged, "NOW, NOW, NOW! Come on, stud. Blow it in my asshole! Let me have it, you magnificent bastard, let me have it! Let your whore have it! Take what's yours sit. Train me, break me, make me your slave!" I pinched her clit between two fingers and she went off. Her asshole spasmed, clenched down on my cock, and I sprayed a load of cum into her, but kept going, ravaging her at a frenzied, insane pace, pumping my cock in and out her backdoor, caring nothing for her comfort. Her screams, merging pain and joy, were so loud she buried her mouth in her forearm, afraid, even in this neighborhood of multi-acre lots that someone might hear her. Her body shook; she flailed on my dick like a child's toy. I yanked my cock from her asshole, flipped her over, and sprayed a second load of cum over her stomach and chest. Selena dipped a shaky fingertip into the cream on her tits and smeared it into her flesh, whimpering, "Yeessss, oh yessss, Yessss, oh Yessss." As she fingered my cum I trapped her clit against her body and dragged her exhausted body through a string of secondary orgasms that teetered between pleasure and pain. Finally her limbs went limp, her breathing slowed, she curled up on the table, closed her eyes, passed out. By the time she awoke I was sitting on the couch. I had showered; I was fully dressed. She looked at me, a happy smile on her face, reflecting joyful acceptance of her new status. Still, I thought, why not make sure? "Taste yourself." She reached for her asshole, pushed a finger past the battered rim, winced in pain, drew it out, sucked on it. She dipped a finger into her pussy and licked it clean. She gathered some of the cum drying on her tits and brought it to her mouth. "Play with yourself little whore." Two fingers entered her swollen pussy, gathered juice, moved it to her clit. When she'd fully coated the nub she started working it with her thumb while her fingers returned to her pussy, stroking the engorged sore pink lips. It hurt; it felt good. I watched, barely interested, as if evaluating second-rate horse flesh. My indifferent attitude humiliated and aroused her, those parts of her mind had fused together. Redness touched her cheeks; her pussy twitched and swelled. "How does it feel whore? You're a filthy, cock-hungry little tramp. You ruined my parents' marriage, but my dad's cock was not enough. You thought you liked being fucked my frat boys, but I've shown you the truth. Its my cock you love having shoved in your hot little body and you don't care which hole I chose. Your cunt's on fire; your nipples are hard. Thinking about me and what I make you do drives you crazy. You're addicted to my dick. You love being fucked like a two-dollar whore." My words vibrated through her, consumed her consciousness. She squeezed her legs together, trying to draw every ounce of pleasure from her hand. "Uuuunnnhhhhhh." "Look at you. Look how horny you are. You want it bad, don't you little whore? You're a desperate, sex-crazed slut who'll do anything she's told. You'll fuck your step-son, you'll fuck anyone I tell you to. I could sell your body on the street.." Her pussy clenched tight. "Uuuuunnnnnhhhhhhhhh." "You're a filthy little cock-sucking, ass-fucking, step-son fucking slut. You watched me fuck Renee. Well, Renee's not only a far better fuck than you'll ever be; she's a friend, lover, partner; you're a cunt, cum-rag, chattel, property. You're my personal slut." She pushed a third, then fourth, finger into her aching snatch. "Uuuuuuunnnnhhhhhhhhhhh, Uuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." "After you watched Renee and I you shoved a big dildo in your dripping cunt. You came real hard wishing it was my dick, longing to be my personal slut. My father's not enough. Your little frat boys ain't enough. You'd rather spread your legs for me and play with your pussy then be with any of them. The thought of it makes you so fucking hot." Waves of pleasure rolled over her. She opened her eyes, stared at the ceiling, licked her lips, worked her sex. A pool of juice formed on the table. She squirmed and writhed. She ground herself into her hand, bucking her hips up and down. Her breathing was fast and ragged. "Uuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." "Play with your clit slut." She pressed her fingers to the throbbing nub, whimpered in shame, whimpered in need. I watched the tension build within her. "Look at me slut." She did; her eyes glowed with perverted need. Her pussy spasmed, bright electric flashes of arousal crackled through her. She trapped her clit under her thumb and drove it into her body. "Pinch your nipples." She took hold of a breast and squeezed the nipple hard; the pain morphed into pleasure. Her fingers moved faster and faster. Electricity, powerful and intense, flowed through her. She howled. "Twist it, hurt yourself slut." She yanked the nipple in a hard motion. "Come." Then, with my permission, the orgasm hit her. Her world split wide open; Everything went grey and pleasure, beautiful agonizing delicious painful pleasure, exploded through her body. She screamed, a scream full of ecstasy and raw carnal need. The pleasure rolled through her, radiating from her dripping sex to every corner of her body. She shuddered and twisted on the table as if a human sacrifice in a fertility ritual of a forgotten mystery religion. Her fingers slowed, then stopped. I watched as the aftershocks reverberated through her. Juice dripped from pussy. I got-up, went to the kitchen, got myself an apple and a glass of water, returned. She was curled up on the table. "Stand up, face me whore." Using her hands to steady herself, she struggled to her feet. I pinched her nipples. Her tits swelled; the nipples hardened. Her eyes shone. Despite her exhaustion, she was ready to go again, her conversion into a sex-toy well on its way. "Let me explain the rules. First and most obviously, you are property. You belong to me. You'll do anything I desire. Is that clear?" "Yes, sir," she replied. Her stomach growled; her pussy throbbed in excitement. "I will loan you out. When I do, you will obey the others as you obey me. Is that clear?" For a moment her eyes looked up, imagining the friends I might give her to. Would I let her play with Renee? A shudder of desire ran though her. She started to answer, but then paused, looking down. She was rolling something around in her head, testing it. Did it express her feelings? Did it express the new her, the one I'd shown her? She looked back up, determination clear on her face. "Yes master." I was a bit surprised. I had not anticipated a total collapse so quickly. I thought it would take a bit longer. Renee was a helluva teacher. I went on, not missing a beat. "No more visits with frat boys." "Yes master." "As to my father, how often do you two go at it?' "Once a week, sometimes twice master." "Well let's make sure he's happy. You're about to become a bit of a nympho. Let's try it five times a week." Although the thought of servicing my father was unpleasant, she did not hesitate. "Yes master." * * * * That night, Selena and Dad took Renee and I to one of the city's best restaurants. Although there is no way to be sure, I suspect the child Selena had nine months later were already growing in her womb.