Splat!
The sound of the tawse impacting on my bottom reverberated around the room.
Splat!
My stockinged legs shook, and my buttocks throbbed as each stroke landed.
Splat!
Mascara ruined, I sobbed as the tears rolled down my cheeks.
Splat!
My welted and bruised bottom was on fire as my nineteen-year-old stepdaughter thrashed me.
Splat! Splat! Splat!
Bare arse in the air, my pendulous, naked tits swung as Jenni wielded the fiendish implement with intense delight.
Splat! Splat! Splat!
Pausing for a moment, she ran her fingers along my hairy, exposed slit.
“You’re soaking,” she said disgustedly.
I was. I knew it. Tied up, thoroughly humiliated and being given a truly good hiding by a girl nearly thirty years my junior. A strong, beautiful, bitchy girl who just happened to be the object of my depraved and secret desires.
I thought I might cum any second; I’d never felt anything like this before in my entire life. After what she had discovered, she had me in the palm of her hand.
It was only the third time Jenni had spanked me since she’d learned my secret, but she learned fast and knew exactly how to exploit my weakness.
I both hated and revered her for it.
ooOoo
Had it really only been a week since the first time? Only a week since Jenni had discovered my true nature? Discovered how her stepmother was, in fact, a natural submissive and would do anything she was told to by her wayward, spiteful stepdaughter, however degrading.
It didn’t take her long. She had called me on it that very evening.
“I found your collection of pictures and stories, Marjorie,” she had said maliciously.
Her words caused my heart to accelerate and I could feel my face blanch.
“You really are pathetic, aren’t you?” she’d sneered. “I wonder what my dad would say?”
She didn’t think I was good enough for her dad. “She’s too fat,” I’d heard her say to him.
It was true; I was overweight. But for some reason, he liked that; liked my ample bottom, substantial thighs and large breasts. And my mouth. I did things for him with my lips and tongue that he revelled in, happily indulging his fantasies about my ‘big, beautiful body’, as he called it. He adored me and I was truly grateful for his devotion. After all, it’s not easy finding someone who really wants you when you’re divorced, over forty and no longer the woman you had once been.
But it wasn’t always enough. I, too, had fantasies. Fantasies that I was too ashamed to share with him.
“Do you think I should tell him?” she’d inquired cruelly.
“Please don’t,” I’d begged.
We’d been married six months. And, unfortunately, his daughter Jenni had taken an instant dislike to me. It didn’t matter so much when she was at college, but it was very difficult when she was home for the holidays – especially when Jack had to work away.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she made it difficult.
“No?”
I’d tried my best, but teenagers can be obstinate. And instead of winning her over like I’d hoped, she’d somehow become the object of my warped desires.
“I should spank you,” she’d scorned. “Bare bottom, like it says in those stories you’ve written. With this!”
Smiling gleefully, she waved a large, wooded-backed hairbrush in front of me.
I’d said nothing. Said nothing, but I could feel my face going red at her derisive words. Writing those stories had been one thing. But using real names – using Jenni’s name – had been a big mistake.
Then what is that feeling you have in your stomach, Marji? Asked the little voice inside me. Is it – perhaps – excitement? Didn’t you want her to find those stories? Don’t you want to feel that hairbrush descend on your desperate backside?
“Well?” she’d sneered. “Have you nothing to say?”
“Please don’t,” I’d responded weakly. For a moment, I’d even meant it. And then I’d pictured myself across her strong, sexy thighs, my bare bottom exposed to that wicked-looking hairbrush she had jubilantly brandished.
Yes – that’s what you really want, whispered my errant little voice.
“Hah!” she’d scoffed knowingly. Then she’d walked around me, inspecting me like a strict headmistress assessing an errant pupil.
I jumped as she gave my right buttock a stinging, exploratory smack.
“I can make it happen,” she’d teased perceptively when she completed her inspection.
Then she’d reached forward, pinched my nipple through my blouse and twisted maliciously. “I will make it happen,”she’d hissed.
Taken by surprise, I’d gasped in shock at her cruelty. And then done nothing. Jenni’s eyes had narrowed speculatively at my silence.
“Is that your only response, hmm?”
I pressed my lips together, keeping quiet and stifling a sob.
She’d completed another lap, taking her time as she examined my body, the continuing lack of objection confirming my subservience; tacitly giving her the permission she subconsciously sought.
Then she’d slapped me. Slapped me hard across my right cheek. Oh, God, that stung!
“How about now, bitch?”
Tears had filled my eyes. And at the same time, I’d felt my pussy noticeably dampen. Her actions – her treatment of me – had turned me on.
“Do – you – want – me – to – spank – you?” she’d demanded between gritted teeth.
Trembling, I’d looked beseechingly at her expressionless face. “N – no…” I’d said unconvincingly.
“Get on your knees,” she’d uttered softly, looking deep into my soul. “Get on your knees if you are prepared to submit to me, and I will give that big arse of yours the thrashing it so richly deserves.”
The silence drew out until I couldn’t meet her gaze any more. Then, licking my lips, I lowered my eyes and dropped to my knees in front of her.
I heard a sharp intake of breath.
“My god, you’re serious, aren’t you?” she’d said incredulously. I think, up to that point, I might possibly have somehow retrieved the situation.
If I’d wanted to.
But from then on she had known. And any moment of doubt she might have had had gone. Her eyes had narrowed, and her voice turned to ice.
“Get your clothes off, Marjorie – go on! Get them all off. I’m going to give you exactly what you crave. Exactly what you describe so eloquently in your stories.”
She’d watched me disdainfully as I’d obeyed her. As I’d removed my dress, my bra and, finally, my panties. Until I’d stood naked in front of her.
“You really are a worthless bitch, aren’t you? A stupid, fat cunt.”
I’d paused uncertainly, not knowing what response she expected.
“Say it!”
I swallowed, then whispered the words. “I’m a worthless bitch. A stupid, fat cunt.”
“Louder, whore!”
“I’m a worthless bitch. A stupid, fat cunt,” I sobbed loudly.
“Good. You’re learning. Now turn around and touch your toes.”
And then she gave me what I so desperately wanted. Only not over her knee like I’d imagined. No. This was much more humiliating. Instead, she chose to spank me whilst I stood there; spank me with that wicked, sadistic hairbrush, pausing only long enough to tell me how insignificant I was; how worthless and ridiculous I appeared to her and her father.
I whimpered and cried and accepted everything she said and did without question. My buttocks were on fire, but the sense of relief; of freedom was incalculable. A weight lifted from me and, liberated, I felt as if I had wings; as if I could soar upwards toward the heavens with the shackles no longer holding me on the ground.
I’d offered myself up to her without condition and reaped the consequences.
That night I’d lain in bed with an incredibly bruised bottom and extremely sore thighs, crying softly to myself, wondering why I had acted as I had.
“You’re mine now, bitch,” she had said afterwards with satisfaction. “I own you!” And she was right. The dynamic between us had changed utterly, and there would be no going back.
There were no excuses. Deep down I knew that I had left those stories where Jenni might find them. Subconsciously, I realised I had wanted her to find them; I’d made it easy for her.
I had wanted to lower my knickers for my sneering stepdaughter; wanted her to give me a good hiding as she ridiculed and derided me.
My fingers had found their way to my clit as I recalled the afternoon. Remembered my response as she twisted my nipple. Her sneering voice ordering me to take my knickers off, and the humiliating spanking she’d delivered with such fierce determination.
I thought of the bare skin of her young, powerful thighs, the touch of her slim, enticing fingers.
She was a beautiful young woman, and I adored her. I would do anything for her.
I thought of the other humiliating things represented in the stories I had written and the pictures I had saved from the internet, and came long and hard as I imagined them coming to pass between us.
It would take my humiliation to a new level. A level that made my stomach churn and my pussy weep.
I hoped I wouldn’t have to wait very long.
And, of course, I didn’t.
