Thursday, March 23, 2017

Dominated by Her Stepdaughter, Chapter 17

Annabel woke up at the crack of dawn, the first rays of daylight peeking in through the windows. It took her a minute to remember where she was, and when she did, all the events of the previous evening came flooding back. She felt herself blushing as she remembered all that had transpired.

When she tried to get up, she discovered that her left leg was still tied to the bed. After freeing herself she stood up and stretched. Catching herself in Carla’s full-length mirror, she saw was covered all over with splotches of red, green, blue, and purple wax. She shook her head in amazement. Every day, lately, brought something new.

There was no sign of Carla, and walking to the front of the house, Annabel saw only her own car in the driveway. Had Carla spent the night somewhere? Should she be worried? She knew that her stepdaughter was a grown woman who could take care of herself, but she worried that Carla’s wild lifestyle was going to catch up to her someday.

In the bathroom Annabel picked off the blobs of wax one by one and dropped them into the trash can. Then she took a long, hot, refreshing shower, occasionally touching herself between the legs when she had flashbacks of the previous night. Such orgasms she’d had — how many people, she wondered, ever in their lives experienced that kind of pleasure?

Feeling restless, she decided to head into Santa Monica, where the yoga studio was. Her class didn’t start for a couple hours yet, so she killed time just wandering around, window-shopping and people-watching. She ended up at the cafe across the street from the studio, sipping a chai and reading the free weekly.

She was a little startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard a voice saying “Hi.” She looked up — it was the redhead from yoga class; Annabel recognized her right away, despite never having gotten a good straight-on look at her face in class. She was stunningly beautiful, with wavy, flowing hair, perfect cheekbones, and luminous green eyes two shades lighter than Carla’s.

“Hi, I’m Dylan,” she said, extending her hand. “From yoga class?”

Annabel took her hand, struggling to find words. “Right,” she said. “Um, yeah. I’m, uh, Annabel.” Annabel shook her head, trying to get a grip on herself; she felt like an awkward teenager.

“Nice to meet you, officially I mean,” said Dylan. “Listen, it’s totally crowded in here, would you mind if I shared your table with you?”

Annabel’s mind raced. She suddenly felt cripplingly shy, and was still embarrassed at having been caught staring the other day. She reddened thinking of it.

“Actually, I was just leaving,” said Annabel, although there was still a half-hour till class. “You can have the table.”

“Oh...OK,” said Dylan, disappointed, making an adorable pouty face. Annabel felt conflicted; it would have been nice to have somebody to talk to. But she wasn’t up to it just now. She stood and turned toward the door. “See you in class?” asked Dylan.

Annabel nodded, but when she got outside, she wondered: Would she go to class? She had an impulse just to flee, but after a few minutes she calmed down, telling herself that she’d come all this way and that some yoga would be good for her. In the end, she got there right as class was starting and took a space all the way at the back.

Dylan was up at the front, but even so their eyes met a few times during the class. Each time Dylan favored Annabel with a lovely smile and Annabel, flustered, looked away. When class was over Annabel headed straight for the door and then her car.

Back home, Annabel decided that it was a good day for some serious housecleaning. Putting on an old T-shirt and some boy shorts, she started by vacuuming the whole house. Then she did the dusting and polished the brass. After a lunch break she cleaned the bathrooms, swept the back deck, washed the windows, and attended to the plants. 

By now it was getting late in the afternoon, but Annabel was on a roll so she decided to tackle the kitchen too. She wiped down all the counters and the fridge and was on her hands and knees, diligently scrubbing the floor, when she looked up and saw Carla leaning in the doorway watching her. How long had she been there? Annabel wondered. She’d been so absorbed in her task that she'd never heard a car pull up or the door open.

“Don’t mind me,” said Carla, smirking. “I’m just enjoying the view.” For the third time that day Annabel found herself blushing, and for lack of any better response, she went back to scrubbing. Carla got herself a bottle of kombucha from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table, watching her stepmother slave away.

After a minute Carla stood and walked over to where Annabel was. Reaching down, she took hold of the hem of Annabel’s shirt and pulled it up and off. She was braless underneath, Carla was pleased to discover. “Carry on,” said Carla, returning to her seat.

Now Annabel’s naked boobs bounced as she worked, making it much more enjoyable to watch, Carla thought. After a few minutes, though, she got greedy. She walked back over, hooked her fingers into the waistband of Annabel’s shorts, and slid them off. Now Annabel was scrubbing the floor wearing nothing but socks and rubber gloves.

Carla found this a delightful sight. She sat back with her drink and took it all in, feeling marvelously privileged and powerful. Annabel, excited by being exposed this way but also self-conscious, worked with her head down, focusing on getting every last speck of dirt off the floor. 

If people could see her now, Annabel wondered, what would they think? That she was completely in Carla’s thrall, with no mind or will of her own. And they’d be right. Her brain told her she should be ashamed, but her body told a different story: every time she thought about Carla watching her, her nipples got harder and her pussy got wetter.

When Annabel next looked up Carla was right in front of her, leaning back against the chrome surface of the refrigerator, naked from the waist down. A look passed between them, but nothing needed to be said. Annabel lunged forward, burying her face between Carla’s legs, which splayed open to admit her. Carla gripped the top of Annabel’s head with one hand and arched her back as Annabel’s tongue pushed inside her.

Suddenly they both froze as they heard the unmistakable sound of a sports car coming up the driveway. Annabel knew instantly that it was her husband, Carla’s father. They had both forgotten that he was due back today. They scrambled to get dressed as his footsteps approached the front door.

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