Thursday, April 13, 2017

Dominated by Her Stepdaughter, Chapter 22

On the ride home Annabel wondered: If Carla had used her to get a better deal from Katya, did that make her a whore? She supposed that it did; the idea was at once mortifying and oddly thrilling.

The sun was going down as they pulled up in front of the house. Carla dropped Annabel off and headed right out again — she had plans for the evening. 

Inside, Annabel walked around the house in a bit of a daze, still a bit stoned and just generally discombobulated by all that had happened. After awhile she heated up some leftovers and went to eat in front of the TV.

More and more it seemed that, when Carla wasn’t around, Annabel didn’t quite know what to do with herself. She sat there watching show after show until almost midnight, but barely paid attention to any of it. More often she was thinking of Carla, wondering where she was, what she was doing, who she was with. Annabel hated to admit it, but she felt jealous.

After brushing her teeth Annabel got into bed, where she tossed and turned, images and sensations from the day running through her mind. She had to rub herself off more than once before she could finally fall asleep.

In the morning she tiptoed down the hall and peeked into Carla’s room; nobody home. Someday, maybe, she’d find out where Carla went and what she did all night.

After breakfast Annabel headed to the yoga studio. In the hallway she ran into Dylan, and this time she was actually able to carry on a conversation. It was just chitchat about the weather and the yoga teacher, but still it made Annabel happy; Dylan was sharp and funny and easy to talk to.

In class Dylan set up next to Annabel, and more than once Annabel found herself distracted by the beautiful body beside her. Dylan’s yoga pants were very tight and very sheer, and at one point during a Warrior pose Annabel was pretty sure she caught a glimpse of red pubic hair.

Afterwards they walked out together and stood for a minute on the sidewalk. Dylan pointed down the street and said, “Well, I’m over here. See you next time.” Annabel said goodbye and watched her walk away, feeling like there was something she was supposed to say or do, but not knowing what it was.

Back home, Annabel got her book and stretched out on a deck chair to read. She had just come into the kitchen for a glass of lemonade when Carla appeared, loaded down with two handfuls of shopping bags. “I’ve been shopping,” she said, rather unnecessarily. She tossed her head in the direction of the living room and said “Come with me.”

In the living room Carla put her bags down and started pawing through them. She looked over at Annabel and said, matter-of-factly, “Get undressed.” Annabel took off her shorts and T-shirt, looking over at Carla expectantly. “All the way,” ordered Carla.

Once Annabel was naked, Carla produced what at first appeared to be an ordinary pair of black lace panties. But when Annabel put them on, it became apparent that they were open at the crotch, leaving her pussy exposed.

Next Carla helped Annabel into a matching black lace bra that had openings in the middle of each cup for her nipples. Annabel sometimes had trouble bra-shopping, but this one fit perfectly. Carla nodded her approval. “I thought you were a D-cup.”

From another bag Carla fished out a black leather collar with alternating metal studs and what appeared to be diamonds. Annabel wondered how much she had paid for it. On the front was a metal ring like the one on a dog collar, and next to it was stitched the letter “C.”

“This is for you,” said Carla, brushing back Annabel’s hair and fastening the collar around her neck. “I want you to wear this whenever you’re here at the house. It’s a reminder of who you belong to.”

Instinctively, Annabel objected — not to the implication that she was now Carla’s property, but on practical grounds. “But your father....”

Carla waved her hands. “Fine, you don’t have to wear it when he’s here. But otherwise I don’t want to see you without it.”

Annabel blushed at the realization that she was going to do it. She was going to do Carla’s bidding without question. She couldn’t help herself.

Carla got out the leash she’d bought, a six-foot length of black leather, and hooked one end to Annabel’s collar. She started to lead Annabel from the room, but after a few steps she stopped, looking back with a stern expression. It took a few seconds for Annabel to figure out what Carla wanted; when she did, she dropped immediately to her hands and knees.

“Good girl,” said Carla. She led the crawling blonde down the hallway and up the stairs to her bedroom, where she sat down, lifted the plaid skirt she was wearing, and slipped off her panties. Spreading her legs and settling into a comfortable position, Carla tightened the leash inch by inch, bringing Annabel to where she could make herself useful.


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