Dominated by Her Stepdaughter, Chapter 82

Carla slept like a baby and woke up in a bright-eyed, optimistic mood. She felt certain that today she could get anything she wanted; all she needed was to know how to ask for it.

Slipping on a long white T-shirt, she left the sleeping Annabel and went downstairs to put on some tea. It was a typical Southern California day, a little smoggy, but pleasantly warm with a cool breeze coming off the ocean. She took her tea out onto the deck, sat down, and put her feet up.

Annabel turned up about an hour later, stark naked and adorably disheveled. Her hair was sticking out every which way and her demeanor was that of a thoroughly satisfied woman; she ambled nonchalantly through the kitchen, squinting in the bright sunlight. Seeing Carla, she smiled, and memories of the previous day’s adventures came flooding back for both of them.

They had breakfast and showered, then headed into town for yoga class. As they walked into the studio, Carla decided that Asha would be teaching that day. There was no doubt in her mind — that was what she wanted, and that was what was going to happen.

And sure enough, at the precise moment the class was supposed to start, a vision of loveliness appeared in the doorway. Today Asha was wearing a minimalist crop-top that left an expanse of bare flesh from the top of her pants to just below her breasts. Her waist was unbelievably thin, her creamy brown skin glowing with preternatural vitality. Carla imagined herself licking and nibbling that delectable soft flesh and in that moment she decided that, by hook or by crook, she was going to make it happen.

As class began Annabel looked around for Dylan, who was nowhere to be seen. In fact the class was rather sparsely attended. This gave Asha the chance to give lots of personal attention to the students — especially Carla, who was still new to yoga and may even have been doing the poses wrong on purpose, just to get the teacher to lay hands on her.

Annabel noticed that Carla’s eyes never left Asha for the entire duration of the class, and while that was quite understandable — the teacher was a remarkable specimen — she couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Carla was always in search of the next conquest — would she never be satisfied with what she had? On the other hand, that insatiable appetite was part of what made Carla who she was; take it away, and you’d have a whole different person.

After class Carla went to the front of the room to chat up the teacher, but found herself having a hard time talking. She asked a couple of nonsensical questions, cursing herself inwardly; she felt like some awkward teenage boy who was scared to death of a pretty girl. Finally, steeling her nerves, she blurted out: “Um, listen, we’re, um ... having a party. On the 4th of July. Maybe you’d like to come?”

This was totally off-the-cuff, but it was not a bad idea; from their house they had a good view of numerous fireworks displays. Asha thought for a few seconds and then answered, “I don’t think I have any plans for that day. Can I let you know?”

Carla nodded eagerly. Asha stepped away and quickly returned holding a phone, which she handed to Carla. “Give me your number?”

Slowly and clumsily, Carla entered her name and digits; her thumbs didn’t seem to be working correctly. This was so unlike her, but finally she finished and gave the phone back to Asha, who favored her with a smile that lit up the whole room. “I’ll be in touch,” she said, and Carla turned to go, still a little embarrassed but also buoyant. She was already beginning to plan the party she had just promised.

By the time they got to the car she had decided that it would be a costume party and that she herself would dress up as Wonder Woman — red, white, and blue, just perfect for the 4th. Looking Annabel up and down, Carla tried to think of ideas for her, but nothing came immediately. Well, there was time to figure that out.

Upon arriving home Carla immediately set to work creating an invitation — she decided to make paper invitations, something she hadn’t done in years. Sitting down at the computer, she had Annabel kneel between her legs — she’d gotten quite worked up during yoga class, and was in need of some relief. Once she’d come, she had Annabel wait quietly while she worked until the itch returned.

An hour and three orgasms later, Carla had a design she was proud of, with a great image of a lady Uncle Sam in a short skirt with prominent cleavage. She started going through the guest list in her mind, and decided that rather than mail the invitations out, they would make the rounds and deliver them personally.

It made sense to go see Monica first; that way she could see about getting a deal on costumes for her guests. She and Annabel showered and had a snack before heading off for Hollywood.

By then it was late in the afternoon and of course they got stuck in traffic; as a result it was almost closing time when they arrived at Johnson’s House of Costumes. Threading their way through the heaps of merchandise, they found Monica bent over an enormous cardboard box, standing on her tiptoes with only her bottom half visible. Her short red dress was riding up to reveal the bottoms of her ass cheeks, and either she wasn’t wearing underwear or what she had on wasn’t providing much coverage.

Carla wolf-whistled and Monica stood up suddenly, almost falling over backwards in her haste. Recovering herself, and trying to look dignified, she smiled at them. “Oh, hi,” she said. “How’s it going?”

They spent a couple minutes catching up, then Carla told Monica about the party and handed her an invitation. Monica agreed to give anyone Carla sent over 50% off their costume.

“You mean half the price?” asked Carla. “Or only half the costume?”

“You tell me,” said Carla, and they both giggled. In that moment Carla felt a warm rush of affection for Monica — she had little dimples that became especially adorable when she laughed. They’d known each other since junior high and had grown into a very comfortable relationship; there was a strong mutual attraction, but neither of them had a particular agenda.

“So,” said Carla, “have you seen Courtney lately?” After the previous party, she’d hoped that Monica and Courtney might hook up, or maybe more.

Monica nodded. “She’s here, in fact, waiting for me in the back room. Why don’t you go say hi? I need to finish up here.” Monica dove back into the box as Annabel followed Carla to the back of the store.

They found Courtney, as promised, in the back room — stretched out naked on a couch, with her wrists and ankles tied and a ball-gag in her mouth. Her eyes widened when she saw them and she tried to say something through her gag; Carla just nodded as if she understood and patted Courtney gently on the rump.

When Carla left the room a few minutes later, she was whistling a happy tune. She stopped at the door and looked back, quite pleased with what she saw: Annabel was now sprawled on the couch next to Courtney, also naked, bound, and gagged.

Carla went back out to where Monica was and helped her put a few things away. By then it was closing time; Monica locked the front door and they repaired to the back room, where Courtney and Annabel had been waiting patiently for them — not that they had any choice.

Monica took a bottle of rosé from the mini-fridge in a corner of the room, popped it open, and poured each of them a glass. They clinked glasses and Carla said, “Now what shall we do with these two?”

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