Sunday, June 4, 2017

Dominated by Her Stepdaughter Chapter 38

In the morning Carla informed Annabel that they would be hosting a dinner party that evening. She, Carla, would do the cooking, while Annabel would be in charge of serving the guests. The way she said it, Annabel was unsure if this just meant bringing them food and drinks, or if something more was implied; so immediately her imagination started running wild, fantasizing about things that she might be made to do.

Carla headed to the supermarket while Annabel worked on cleaning and pressing her maid’s outfit, which had gotten badly rumpled in the course of the previous night’s activities. As she did so she daydreamed a scene where she was on her knees in the living room, servicing all of Carla’s friends one after the other as Carla looked on approvingly.

By the time Carla got home Annabel was so worked up that she desperately hoped Carla would take her right then and there. She came into the kitchen in just bra and panties, trying to look alluring, but Carla was all business. She unloaded the groceries and set about doing prep work, enlisting Annabel to chop vegetables.

They worked throughout the afternoon and Annabel came away impressed and excited about the meal, which consisted of pork tenderloin, mushroom risotto, stuffed tomatoes, and homemade chocolate gelato.When Carla set her mind to it, she was a tremendous cook.

When the food was basically ready, needing only to be finished once the guests arrived, Carla told Annabel to shower and dress. Annabel took the opportunity to do head-to-toe maintenance, plucking her eyebrows, shaving her legs and bikini area, and painting her toenails. When she was done she squeezed herself into the maid’s uniform and checked herself out in the mirror. She was pleased with what she saw, and hoped Carla and her guests would feel likewise.

At the same time, she was a bit apprehensive about the night to come. Everyone there would see her as what she was: a woman openly living in sexual servitude to her own stepdaughter in her own home. She had enough of her old self left to realize that this was shameful; she shuddered to think what would happen if her family back home ever found out what had become of her. But this thing was like a runaway train; it was out of her control, all she could do was hold on and see where it took her.

She arrived back downstairs just in time to hear the doorbell ring. Carla was nowhere to be seen, so Annabel went to answer it. At the door was Kim, looking cute and perky in short-shorts and a tube top — not considered dinner-party attire where Annabel came from, but then this was California.

Kim looked Annabel up and down, noting the collar and the outfit. A lot had changed in a short time. Not long ago Annabel had been an ordinary housewife; now she was a collared sex slave. Kim shook her head; that Carla certainly had a gift for getting what she wanted.

Annabel greeted Kim and invited her in, asking if she’d like something to drink. Kim requested a glass of white wine and headed for the back deck, where the heat of the day was just giving way to the coolness of evening.

Annabel did her best to keep Kim company, but they didn’t have much to say to each other. They were almost strangers, even though they’d already been sexually intimate. For the lack of any better idea, Annabel found herself wondering, should I offer myself to her? Is that what Carla would want?

Just then Carla appeared, looking upscale and haughty in a chic, sleek black dress. She and Kim hugged and kissed, then sat down and began to talk. Carla told Annabel to bring her a glass of wine and Annabel complied. She had just set the glass down when the doorbell rang again; Carla looked over at Annabel, making it clear that this was her responsibility.

This time it was Katya at the door. She was dressed much as she had been the first time Annabel saw her, in black jeans, a black T-shirt, and black leather boots. Her eyes were hidden behind large aviator sunglasses. She smiled at Annabel in an aggressively familiar way; remembering their previous encounter, Annabel blushed.

Annabel led Katya to the deck where Carla and Kim were sitting. “Bring our guest some vodka,” Carla instructed Annabel. “There’s a bottle in the freezer.”

In the kitchen, Annabel opened the freezer door and bent over to look inside. She did not immediately see the bottle and had been peering into the freezer for a few seconds when she felt a hand on her ass. She looked up over her shoulder to see Carla gazing down at her. “Back right corner,” she said.

Annabel saw the bottle but took her time about getting it, feeling Carla’s hand rub and squeeze her butt. Then Carla gave Annabel a playful slap on the rump. “Come on, Katya’s waiting for her drink.”

The cold of the freezer had made Annabel’s nipples visibly hard, as Katya noted when Annabel handed her her drink, gazing unapologetically at Annabel’s chest, “Thank you, Carla’s stepmother,” said Katya. “Or are you the maid? I’m confused now.”

“She lives to serve,” commented Carla dryly, and just then the doorbell sounded once again. A minute later Annabel returned with Monica, who had dressed for the occasion in a sequined gown that she’d taken off a mannequin at the shop. It was a little small for her, accenting her already-ample breasts and rear end. Carla, Annabel, Kim, and Katya all found themselves staring at her body until Monica finally said, “Um, what does a girl have to do to get herself a drink around here?”

In the kitchen Annabel glanced out the window at the four young and beautiful women on the deck, wondering what the evening might have in store. After pouring a glass of wine for Monica she adjusted her bosom, flipped back her hair, and went to find out.


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