Seducing my Kinky Stepdad

Seducing my Kinky Stepdad

Chapter One

I was only six when mom married Charles. At the time, I was still trying to make sense of my father's sudden death. Mom, I guess not wanting to make me feel like Charles was supposed to replace my father, always called him as just her "friend." Over time, I wanted to think of him as my friend too. He was always patient with me, and even when mom would go on one of her freak-outs, Charles and I would give one another reassuring pats on the back and play a board game or watch TV or something, and then eventually she'd see how happy the two of us were and come join us.

Cut to twelve years later, and things around the family home were much more strained. For one thing, mom and Charles now slept in separate bedrooms. She claimed it was because he tossed and turned in his sleep, and that he often said things that disturbed her. Charles said he wasn't aware of what he did in his sleep, but if it was upsetting mom, he was only happy to give her her own space. I've known Charles long enough to be able to tell at a glance that he was being untruthful about that, and that he was, in fact, quite unhappy. And sometimes, these days, I pass by his room and I hear him faintly growling or panting. I often wonder what he's doing in there…

I had just turned eighteen, and suddenly, I was single for the first time in ages. The high school boyfriend I thought I'd end up marrying was half a world away and in college, where he'd been getting on with his own life. Over time, we spoke less and less. Then a month or so ago, he sent me a text saying that he had met someone and that he was sorry. And that was it. There was almost no follow up to that because quite frankly, I didn't even know what to say. We'd been together since I first discovered boys at fourteen, and I guessed that, for the most part, I liked the security of the relationship more so than the actual relationship. Having a boyfriend meant that I didn't have to consider pick-up lines and offers from the other boys, or guys at the beach or on the street. I always had an excuse. I was spoken for. Now I no longer had that excuse.

So, for the last little while, I've tried out some dating websites and apps on my phone, and occasionally let some of my friends set me up on blind dates. These typically end in disappointment.  Usually, in the case of the phone app, I got the sense they were just trying increase their "score" number, and the sex generally wasn't very rewarding for me. On the dating websites, I got a lot of messages from either guys my age who came off as dumb and immature, or older men who were looking to cheat on their wives with someone younger. Now, I usually told those older guys shame on them, that I was young enough to be their daughter. This, you might imagine, is going to become terribly ironic in this story. Because this is a story about seducing my own married stepdad, right? So what changed? Well…

One rainy day I was home alone, and bored, and feeling a little nostalgic. So I decided I wanted to re-watch some of the old movies I used to watch with mom and Charles on rainy days when I was young. Movies that reminded me of the good times. My favorites were the movies from the 80's; movies I never would have seen were it not for my cool stepdad, who'd been a kid in the 1980s. He introduced me to such classics as Ghostbusters, Back to the Future, and Labyrinth. Sometimes I got the impression I'd been born into the wrong generation, and I wonder what it would have been like to grow up alongside mom and Charles, both children of the 80s.

So that's why I was in my stepdad's room, rummaging through his old DVDs. I put on Back to the Future, playing it out of the PC in his room. It occurred to be me that that, oddly, this movie in which the main character goes back thirty years, was now itself 30 years old. And when the main character Marty goes back in time, he ends up meeting his parents, and having his mother fall in love with him. This would become an oedipal omen, which I would be realizing shortly.

I passively watched the movie while going on a kind of rooting binge, digging up some of my stepdad's old comics and Halloween costumes, and other paraphernalia when I happened upon a small black shoebox sitting inconspicuously in the corner. So inconspicuously in fact, that it drew my eye. It was almost too incognito there, and even as I made my way towards it, at the back of the closet, I felt as though I were making some kind of transgression. It was as though I knew there would be a deep, dark secret there. Something not meant for my eyes.

Feeling a bit like Pandora, I opened the box.

I peeked inside, and at first, I didn't know what I was looking at. I'd expected to find maybe some old childhood treasures of his, or maybe his old stash of bad pornos from his youth. The latter was closer to the mark, but not quite. Then my eyes widened when I realized what I'd just stumbled upon.

The box was a veritable treasure trove of BDSM. It contained one pair of red fuzzy handcuffs, an assortment of leather restraints, a red ball-gag, another type of gag which I had to look up later to identify as a spider-gag, a chain connecting two alligator nipple clamps, a flogger, some skimpy bras and panties that most obviously were not anything Charles would have worn, and a stash of old Polaroid pictures.

I rifled through the Polaroids, looking at each photo. They looked old. They would have to be. I think the Polaroid camera was supplanted by digital by the late 1990s, so I placed the time of these photos as the late 90s. Probably from when Charles was in high school, or maybe college. There was a girl in the photos with a couple of extra piercings in her ears, tongue, lip and nose, and, as I would find in later photos, her nipples too. She looked like the quintessential 1990s Goth girl, complete with the black hair with bangs that seemed to throw her back to an even earlier era when, perhaps the 1950s, when women were more likely to be treated as decorations than people. Aside from that, the girl was quite pale, almost sick looking, though with the black lipstick, I got the impression it may have been makeup intended to make her look paler than she actually was. Then again, as I perused the rest of the photos, it seemed her whole body truly was that pale. In each photo, she was posed in various sexually suggestive positions, while wearing the handcuffs, the gags, and in some photos, the nipple clamps. Then, strangely, I found myself getting a little aroused. There was a part of me that wanted to be the girl in these photos, being objectified by whoever it was that was behind the camera. Presumably…Charles?

I didn't recognize the girl, but she was very pretty. I wondered who she was. It wasn't my mom. I was sure of that. Then I remembered that mom wasn't the only one who lost someone, back when dad died. She had met Charles at a grief counseling group, and they had quickly hit it off, and before I could say "I still miss dad," Charles had moved in with us. There were many nights early on, when I used to creep out of bed and spy on them from the top of the stairs, and sometimes mom would be crying. Sometimes Charles would be. Sometimes it was both of them. I began to wonder now if grief was really the foundation of their whole relationship, and this was maybe why, over the years, they had drifted apart. If time heals all wounds, as they say, then time may have scared over what little mom and Charles actually had in common, and now, maybe they only acted as painful reminders to one another. I remembered what mom said, about his continued nightmares that had been keeping her awake when she and Charles were still trying to share their bed. Were the nightmares his grief coming back through the cracks of his subconscious? Were they about this girl? What had happened to her anyway?

It was obvious from the way the photos were taken that Charles loved her. It was such a weird way to express love, I thought. Because really, a lot of the devices in here were effectively implements of torture, and yet, seeing the look on the face of the girl in the photo, she looked so happy. So loved. So complete. I wanted a guy to look at me the way Charles looked at her. In a way, I wanted to be her.

Up until this point, I had had a somewhat private fascination with BDSM, though I wasn't sure if it was something innate, or just a product of my generation. After all, E.L. James's Fifty Shades of Grey became the quintessential blockbuster of books, at least in terms of sales, beating out even Harry Potter and the Bible. Which is frightening when you think about what that says about the nature of demand in the literary market. But it is what it is. As for me, the question remained: Was I into BDSM because of a trend, or did some primal part of me need it? Now, it seemed that question had an answer, and it was tingling in my panties.

I closed the box and put it back the way I'd found it. I didn't want Charles to know I'd been in here. I put everything back, and then went back to the PC and ejected the DVD, taking it back to the living room to finish watching the movie there. But in the back of my mind, a tick had been planted, and it was now burrowing its way deep inside me.

 

Chapter Two

That night, I dreamt I'd gone back in time and run into old versions of my parents, who'd been eighteen in the 1990s. In my dream, they were dating, though in reality they hadn't known each other at the time. Such is the nature of dreams I guess. Then, like Marty McFly in Back to the Future, I'd arrived in a time machine and accidentally changed an event, and I ended up falling in love with Charles, and then he'd handcuffed me and stripped me until I was wearing what the girl in the photos had been wearing. And he took the Polaroids that I knew would eventually sit in a little black shoebox in his closet. Then he cried and told me he missed me and carried me to the bed and gagged me, and then fucked me hard.

Then I awoke, and it was morning. And I had to marvel at the effect this dream had on me. And the implications. On one level, I knew the dream was kind of a mash-up of the movie I'd just watched and the experience of finding that box of memories in Charles's bedroom. But there was more to it than that. I was still haunted by the sight of Charles crying and saying that he missed me. Or, presumably it was that girl he missed, but somehow I’d become her. I hadn't seen him cry like that in a long time. Not since my childhood, when I spied on him and mom from the top of the stairs. I remembered him at one point breaking down and crying and saying "I miss her." Was it the young woman in the photos? My subconscious seemed to think so. And further more, my "sub"-conscious, (and I'm making a pun now because I realize this really will turn out to have two meanings), was telling me that I wanted to be dominated. And more specifically, at that moment, it seemed to me that I wanted it to be Charles.

The thought made me feel weird and gross. Remember before when I mentioned telling off those older men for messaging me on those dating websites? Telling them they were old enough to be my father? Well, now I was finding myself having exactly that fantasy, and feeling like a hypocrite.

My panties were still damp, and I realized I was so aroused that I couldn't even think straight. All I could think about was how much I wanted to be tied, teased, tortured and fucked. And in this fantasy, it was invariably by Charles. And I couldn't figure out why. But right now, all I wanted to do was masturbate. So I did, thinking about being Charles's little submissive fuck-doll.

I stayed in bed and quietly gave myself a number of orgasms like this until I heard Charles and my mother leave the house for the day. Then I finally got out of bed, took a well-needed shower, and then went back into Charles's room. I went into the closet and peered into the box again. I looked at the bra and panties combination again. They were black and see-through, and the panties opened at the crotch, presumably so the wearer could be fucked in them. They smelled a bit like old closet, but otherwise appeared to be clean. I suddenly couldn't resist the urge to try them on. I wanted to know how I'd look in them.

I took the bra and the panties, and I returned to my room. I got undressed and then tried them on. I looked at myself in my full-body mirror and evaluated myself. I looked pretty hot, I thought, but there was something missing. I needed shoes to complete the ensemble.

I went to my own closet and chose the best match I could find, which turned out to be the black three-inch stilettos I had worn to prom last year. I looked at myself in the mirror and admired the improvement.

My god, I thought. I could probably be a pretty successful stripper if I wasn't so shy. But I am, of course, generally really shy. Especially when it comes to sex. Still, I suddenly thought I'd probably get even more attention on the dating apps and websites with a nice photo in this. But then again, that might get me some more of the wrong attention. But I supposed it couldn't hurt to take a few selfies. So I took some pics of myself, some including my face, and some not. Some where I covered my face with my hair.

I then looked at the selfies on my phone, and also myself in the mirror, and compared them to the Polaroids. Something was still missing. Sure, I looked hot, but only in that vague, Victoria's Secret model kind of way.

I needed something else. Something from the black box in Charles's room. So I went back and opened the box again. I picked up the red ball-gag and put it in my mouth, and then fastened the straps behind my head. Then I looked at the standup mirror in is closet. My mouth looked so cute with a red ball in it. And it felt great too! I had to take another selfie. Yes, this was the right track.

And yet something was still missing. Then I spied the alligator clamps with the connecting chain between them, and then looked back up at my tits in the cute little see-through bra. I decided to ditch the bra and then try on the clamps. I slid off the bra and then examined the nipple clamps. They were adjustable, so I could put them on a low setting so they wouldn't hurt too much. I played with my own nipples while looking in the mirror, and once they were hard, I put the clamps on.

I admired myself in the mirror now, and how sexy I looked in the skimpy see-through panties, the ball-gag, the nipple clamps and my stilettos. I took a few more selfies in the mirror. I looked so cute now. All I needed was a man I trusted to come play with me. Maybe put the handcuffs on me. I stood in front of the mirror holding my hands behind my back, imagining how I might look fully bound like that. If only I had a partner to play with… a man I trusted. A man I loved. There was one man I could think of… Mmm… Charles.

No, I thought. No, no, no. That's just so wrong!

So why did the idea still feel so right?

I heard a door close suddenly. Someone was home!

I scrambled to try to get out the ball-gag. I fumbled with it, but before I knew it, Charles had stepped into the room.

"Nikki? Are you in here?"

Oh god! How does he know I'm in here?

I looked up and realized that I'd left the in-closet light on.

He took a few more footsteps towards the closet and then stopped in the entrance and stared, like a deer in headlights.

I imagine the look I returned was equal parts embarrassment and guilt. Not only was I probably not supposed to be in here, but I was wearing his dead ex-girlfriend's bondage gear. And I still couldn't even get the gag out to make up an explanation. Not that any explanation would have helped. I think it was pretty clear what I'd just gotten up to.

He continued to stare for a few seconds, with his mouth open, obviously himself also hoping for a decent way to dispel this humiliating situation. Clearly he didn't know where to begin either.

Finally, he averted his eyes.

"I was just coming to…" Charles stammered. "You know what? Never mind. I…I'll be in the kitchen."

With that, he left.

I quickly scrambled to get everything off me. I was so humiliated. And somehow…disappointed. Why was I disappointed? I think there was a part of me that fantasized that he would see me and then maybe force himself on me. Well no, not force himself exactly. Charles would never do that. Charles was too much of a modern feminist for that kind of thing. He and I still frequently take the same sides when discussing feminist issues against my slightly more old-fashioned mom. But that's something different. Something almost completely separate from what I was feeling now. It was so strange, all these feelings inside, and wondering why, why I wanted to be taken. I wanted to be touched and abused and used. But why? And why did Charles have all this stuff in his closet still anyway? Did he still, deep down, have the urge to dominate women? It seemed so out of character. But clearly that had been what he was once interested in, and, from what I’ve heard, beyond a certain age, men's sexual appetites don't really change.

I quickly scrambled to take off the nipple clamps and ball-gag, and put them back in the box. Then I put the bra back on, and then grabbed the nearest shirt of Charles's, and then quickly clomped in my stilettos back to my own room, where I changed back into my own everyday clothes and then sighed in anticipation of the awkward conversation that would inevitably follow. Then I went downstairs to the kitchen.

Charles was standing by the stove, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Tea?" he said.

"Sure," I replied, and then sat down.

He poured me a cup and then the two of us sat awkwardly across from one another at the table. Normally, when we're together, everything is so easy. He's like, always been my best friend, and the easiest guy to talk to, though around others, we tend both to be pretty shy. Now here were both were, alone in a room, too embarrassed to talk about the proverbial elephant in the room.

"So um…" he began. Then he made a series of facial expressions. None of them seemed to complete into a look of determination to finish that sentence.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Sorry I went into your room without asking."

"Yeah, well…I guess there are reasons not to go snooping through people's things. You never know what you might find. Just um…please don't mention this stuff to your mom. She sort of told me to throw it out a long time ago, but…I couldn't."

"Oh," I said. "Of course not. No I'd never…listen, I'm sorry. I really should have–"

"What were you doing in there, anyway?"

"I was just feeling nostalgic I guess. I missed the good old days and I was just looking at old Halloween costumes…"

He nodded.

"Was that her?" I asked.

"Was what who?"

"The Polaroids. Was that…you know…her?"

He nodded slowly.

"Her name was Olive. Well, Olivia. But she was my little Olive."

"She was really pretty," I said.

"Yeah," he said. And he looked almost on the verge of tears.

I suddenly felt just terrible.

"God, I'm sorry, Charles. I had no idea, it’s just…all that stuff in there…"

"It's weird, huh? I know. That's part of why I'd prefer to keep this between us."

"What? No, Charles, I don't think it's weird at all. I think it's cool."

"Really?"

"Well…yeah."

"Well…I guess that would explain why you were wearing some of it."

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling guilty again.

"It all right, Nikki. Really. I just feel weird about…you know…walking in on you. I mean…you couldn't have just taken that whole box to your own room?"

He smiled a little. I knew he was trying to diffuse the situation. Get us back to normal. Charles was good at that.

I smiled. "I know. I'll bear that in mind the next time I raid your closet."

We sipped our tea in silence for a bit.

"You really think that stuff is cool?"

I looked at him and bit my lip. Then he looked away and I realized I may have suddenly got the wrong idea and sent the wrong signal.

"Yeah," I said. "I mean I love the stuff. I can't really explain it."

"Me neither," he said with a half-laugh.

He looked pensive for a minute. We sipped our tea in silence.

"Do you want it?" he said, breaking the silence.

"Do I want it?" I said, feeling horrified.

Was he propositioning me? The idea seemed so unlike the Charles I knew. But strangely, I kind of liked the idea. I wanted him to take me.

Yes. I do want it. I want you to give it to me, Charles!

"Yeah. The box of BDSM stuff. Do you want it?" he said.

"Oh," I said, laughing a little, frankly relieved that that's what he'd actually meant. Of course that's what he meant. "All of it?"

"Sure. I mean… I don't really have a use for it anymore. Your mother was never terribly interested in BDSM. She's always thought it was a bit too weird for her taste, so that stuff mainly remains unused."

"Mainly?"

Charles looked embarrassed suddenly.

"Just let me keep the Polaroids. Those are of Olive. I don't imagine they'll be of much value to you."

"Oh, of course. I'd never want to take those from you."

Besides, I thought, I'd rather be the girl in the photos than look at them.

He nodded.

"So I can really keep all that stuff?" I said excitedly.

"Yeah. I mean, it's good stuff. I feel like it should be enjoyed by somebody that loves it rather than sitting unused at the bottom of a middle-aged dude's closet."

"Pff, you're hardly middle-aged yet," I said.

"I'm thirty-five, Nikki. When do you think middle age begins?"

"I don't know. Fifty?"

"Really? How many hundred-year-olds do you know?"

I rolled my eyes and smiled. This was good. Things were getting back to normal. We could have our old banter again.

We hung out for a bit and talked about stuff I was learning in college, and what was cool on TV and other things, and then I stopped by his room to pick up the box of stuff. He took out the Polaroids and put them into the drawer of his computer desk, and then I thanked him again.

"Just don't tell mom I gave you these. Just please. For the love of god. Tell her anything else. Tell her you're a professional dominatrix for all I care."

I giggled and agreed, and then took my new toys back to my room.

That night, just before bed, I found myself feeling a bit naughty. I rooted through the box of treasures and found a second pair of panties that were a little different than the first. They weren't see-through, but they did still have the crotch-hole. But also, they had restraints behind them, built right into the panties. I'd remembered seeing the photo of Olive from behind wearing these, and I remembered thinking they looked like they'd be fun to wear – more comfortable than the handcuffs to sleep in, or be fucked, in if the guy is on top. They could be manually cinched closed over the wrists behind, making the wearer quite helpless. I couldn't quite cinch them shut over my own wrists by myself, but I experimented for a little until I was able to get them as tight as I possibly could and still twist and squirm my wrists into them.

Satisfied, I then locked my door, and then I stuffed my hands in them and looked at myself in the mirror. God, did I ever want a man here now so he could take me. I would have to post some of the naughtier photos I'd taken on my dating profile, and see if I could attract a really kinky dude. But one I liked as much as Charles.

God…Charles…Why would I be comparing him to Charles? What was wrong with me?

Then I went to bed with my hands tied like that. It was a bit weird, I know, but I just really wanted to know what it felt like to spend a night in bondage like that. Would it affect my dreams? Would I instinctively pull my hands free in my sleep? It was pretty hard to twist out of it, and I didn't think I'd do it by accident, but also, I was pretty sure that the bonds wouldn't cut off any circulation. And anyway, even if they did, I could always just wake up and take them off.

Then I lay in bed and felt a little turned on. It took a certain degree of restraint, so to speak, to resist the temptation to pull my hands free and masturbate. I did finally fall asleep though.

 

Chapter Three

That night, I had another sex dream about Charles. This time, I was tied up in bondage panties in bed, just like the ones I'd fallen asleep in. I didn't even know that it was a dream until I awoke.

Once I awoke of course, I realized it had all been a dream. My door was still locked from the inside, and I could tell no one had fucked me in the pussy, since there was nothing dribbling out of me. Other than, of course, my own juices, which had soaked my panties through. I was insanely horny. I also noticed that I had not, in fact been able to pull my hands free of the bondage panties in my sleep. My shoulders were a little stiff.

I pulled my hands free of the panties and then went to the box of toys. I wanted to be gagged like I'd been in the dream. Charles had come into my room, and then he'd told me not to tell mom. And of course I promised I would not. Then he gagged me, and then he fucked me hard in the bed. I popped the ball into my mouth and then fastened it behind my head, and then I knelt in front the mirror, and put one hands behind my back, and cinched it tight with the other. I tested the bound hand and it was quite tight. I then began masturbating furiously with my free hand, while tensing the other against my bonds. And then I imagined that it was Charles that was fucking me. I didn't care right now that it was wrong. I could feel guilty about using him as my fantasy guy later. Right now, I needed release worse than I ever had before.

Moments later, I was coming hard, and gasping and moaning through my gag.

Then I heard someone jiggle the handle of my door. Then knocking.

"Nikki honey, are you all right in there?" came my mother's voice.

Oh crap, how loud was I being? Evidently too loud.

I was still panting furiously from the excitement of the orgasm, but I was calming down now. I quickly pulled the ball out of my mouth this time, rather than trying to fiddle with the straps. I'd just had one awkward conversation with Charles. I wasn't about to have another one with my mom.

"I'm fine, mom," I said.

"Do you have a boy in there?" she asked in an accusatory tone.

"No, mom," I said.

"Then why is your door locked?"

"I just wanted some privacy, mom, that's all."

"Are you sure you don't have a boy in there?"

"Mom, we talked about this. Even if I did, I'm eighteen. You need to back off."

"Ugh, you're impossible," she said as she stalked off, more to herself than me, I think, though she'd probably meant for it to be heard.

Then I got myself free, put away the box of toys, save the bondage panties which now pretty much needed to be washed, so I put those in my laundry hamper, and then got into the shower.

By the time I got out, I found that I was home alone again. Mom had gone to work and presumably Charles was out also, presumably on another photography gig.

I lamented that he was out because now, after dreaming about him two nights in a row, more and more, I was contemplating my chances of wooing him. Of course it was just a passing fancy, and I totally didn't have the courage to try that. It would be so bad! It would hurt mom, first of all, and secondly it was just so weird. And Charles was my best friend, and trying something like that could totally ruin everything. But I just couldn't stop thinking about him, and how badly I wanted to be bound and at his mercy. Feeling his hands on me. Begging him to fuck me. Serving him however he wanted me to serve him, and then being rewarded with some good hard fucking.

Then I remembered something else from the dream. He'd said "I've waited so long to do this." And in the dream, I'd taken that literally, that he'd wanted to bind me and fuck me for a long time. And I knew in my dream that for a long time I'd wanted it too. But now that I was awake and able to look back on and make sense of the dream, I realized why that detail made it into my dream, and why it was now one of the few things I remembered. Yesterday, Charles had said mom never wanted to do this with him. So that means that for years, Charles hasn't been getting what he needs sexually from mom. And maybe Charles, nice guy that he is, would tell anyone that asked that it was okay, that he didn't need it. But more and more, I was discovering that I was unlocking a desire within myself. I needed to be tied up. It was almost a primal need. I needed to be tied up and fucked by a hot guy I trusted. And there was no one I trusted more than Charles.

And as for Charles…well, he wasn't getting what he needed. Did he need it the way I felt I did? I got the sense that he probably did. But he would probably never admit it. And he would certainly never, ever, make the first move. He's always looked out for me, protected me and advised me through all kinds of troubles, whether it be guy troubles or what have you. He'd always give me the insight I needed to figure out what to do when my relationship with my ex was in trouble. He was always there to take my side when mom was being unfair. He was always there to go the extra mile for me, and god help anyone he thought might be trying to bully me at school. Or unfair teachers. But I wasn't a girl anymore. I was a woman now. I didn't need him to protect me anymore. I needed something else now. But of course, like I said, he would never ever make a move like that. It would be a transgression of sorts, and risk hurting both me and mom. So he would never do that. I would have to make the first move.

Of course, I wouldn't dare make the first move either unless I was absolutely certain that Charles wanted it. He would still be against it no matter what, I knew, but if he wanted it, deep down, I knew I could probably get through to him. Get his proverbial Walls of Jericho to crumble. I know all his weakness, and anyway, I have a trump card. Because one of his biggest weaknesses? Me. If I could make it clear to him that taking me would make me really happy, and if he himself already had a kind of growing desire to do so, then I could probably cajole him into taking me. But I would have to play my cards right of course, and anyway, first I would have to investigate things myself to see.

So the first place I thought to look was his PC in his room. After all, that's probably the best source of information. I was hoping that seeing me in bondage had triggered something, so I tried to get creative in looking for things that he might have searched for, or websites that he may have visited.

I went through his browser history and found that he'd been to a number of porn sites recently. I smiled and shook my head. I thought married men were supposed to be better about clearing their browser history. But then again, he and mom had separate rooms now, and she has her own tablet, so she never has a reason to come in here at all, let alone simply to use the internet. But still, she might, as a simple point of interest, have done a search on his computer if for no other reason than that of a married woman's curiosity. After all, I wasn't even married to the guy, and here I was going through his browser history. But then again, I wanted to sleep with him, and mom, as far as I can tell, had not shared a bed with Charles in a long time. Which meant Charles was either getting it elsewhere, or he was getting his porn on.

So guess what I found in abundance on his browser history? I found a shit ton of porn sites, mostly BDSM, spanking, flogging, nipple torture and many other things. I looked at his download history and found a series of recently downloaded photos of women in skimpy outfits and bondage, and women bound and chained on their knees giving men blowjobs. Looking at all this stuff was getting my really hot! So that was piece one of the evidence I wanted. He still obviously loved looking at BDSM stuff.

But then I found his most recent downloaded videos, videos that had been taken only last night from a site called "Disgraced 18," which appeared to be all about putting eighteen-year-olds into humiliating bondage and sex situations. My heart began to race with excitement, because not only did that mean more BDSM, but it seemed like seeing me in that stuff yesterday might have triggered a desire in him too. Maybe he just wanted a younger girl; I didn't know. But I certainly knew of one eighteen-year-old chick who wanted to be disgraced. Yours truly!

Still, I needed more proof. Even that could be misconstrued. Even that could just be coincidence. I needed more evidence. So I opened a tab to Google, and using his Google account, looked through a list of things he'd search recently. That's when I found the jackpot. One search string read: "stepdaughter new york incest law."

He wanted to know if I was legal. Then I realized so did I, so I clicked through.

Then I noticed other search strings as well. "Stepdaughter crush," was the first, followed quickly by "stepdaughter crush wrong." And I realized something. He clearly felt the same way about me that I did about him, but he was terrified of hurting me. The poor guy, I thought. He probably thought of himself as some kind of sexual predator waiting to hurt his stepdaughter – no – his best friend.

If anyone should be ashamed, it should be mom, I realized. Charles was a wonderful, loving, and frankly pretty sexy man, and she wasn't giving him the love and kink that he needed in his life. She was wasting him. His desire to dominate with so primal. So hot. And maybe that's part of why I didn't feel guilty about thinking about going behind her back. Because honestly, her frigidity had been hurting Charles for far too long. And I couldn't let that continue. Not if I knew I could give Charles what he really needed.

I think that's when I first began to harden in my definitive resolve to rectify the situation. Not only did I want Charles more than ever, but I needed Charles to know that what he was feeling wouldn't hurt me. That he couldn't hurt me, excepting, of course, in ways I kind of wanted him to hurt me.

So I closed all the tabs and folders I'd opened, and the photos and videos which were getting me way too horny anyway, and returned to my room to think of a plan.

 

Chapter Four

Perhaps an hour later, I heard my stepdad close the front door. He was home early again, and there would probably be time to do something now. After all, I didn't want to wait another day, and I didn't think he should have to either.

I’ll admit I had no idea what I was doing. But I did have some sense of what esthetic Charles liked. He liked skinny and pale, which I happened to be, though of course not without my feminine curves, and he obvious liked the hands bound behind. That much I could tell from his search history.

I put on my 3-inch-stilettos and the see-through panties with the hole in the crotch. I got my nipples nice and hard, and then I put on the nipple clamps with the chain between them. Then I tied the gag around my neck and let it hang there. I wanted to still be able to talk to Charles if I needed to. If I was gagged, he might still talk me out of what I was about to do, and I wanted to be able to make my case if I had to. Then when I'd made it, he could gag me. We could come back to my room and lock the door. Then he could play with me, but not the way we used to when I was a kid. No, we would be playing an adult game. A very fun one where Charles could use me however he pleased.

Finally, I took the handcuffs and locked them around one wrist, opened the door and made my way downstairs.

Charles was in the kitchen making a cup of tea when I entered.

"Hey Nikki, can I make you a cuuhh…" he trailed off.

My heart raced when he looked at me.

What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing?

"Hey," I said softly.

"Nikki, what are you doing?" he asked quietly.

As if in answer, I put my hands behind my back and locked my other hand behind me. Now I was helpless.

"Charles," I said softly, posing demurely for him in the entryway.

"Nikki…are you drunk?"

"Do I look drunk?" I said, and bit my lip at him.

"Nnn…sort of."

"I think I've been drunk with lust since I found this stuff in your room I said."

"Nikki, please put some uh…go back and put some clothes on," he said.

"That might be kinda difficult now," I said.

I turned and showed him my handcuffed wrists.

"Nikki…we shouldn't be out here like this. Not like this."

I walked up to him slowly. He started backing away.

"Nikki, don't–"

"Please don't back away from me like that," I pleaded. "I can't hurt you. Obviously. I'm helpless. I'm just trying to give myself to you."

I kept walking towards him. I looked into his eyes. His eyes were wandering all over my mostly naked body. It felt delightful.

"I was on your computer today. I noticed you've been visiting Disgraced Eighteen. I know that you searched for whether or not it's wrong to be attracted to your stepdaughter. Ever since yesterday, I know you've been thinking about me. About having me…" I was so close to him now our faces with just a breath apart. "…all to yourself like this. And I want you to know that I want it too."

"Nikki, this is wrong," he said softly, his hand touching my shoulders now. Not yet in a sexual way. He was still resisting, still playing the protective father figure, but I could feel his breaths get heavier, and I could feel the desire pouring off him.

"Does this feel wrong," I said, and tried to lean in to kiss him. He resisted me a little. But only a little. His defenses were definitely crumbling. He was definitely strong enough to push me away even if my hands were free. But he was trying to deter me gently. So I let him for now. I didn't want to push him either. I wanted to be sure that this was mutual. I would not trap him. Not any more than I was already, anyway.

"Does this feel wrong?" I said, and I rose my knee to rub against his crotch, and that's when I had my proof. Charles was hard as a rock down there.

He gasped.

"Someone's excited," I said. "If you touch me down there, you'll feel that I'm just as excited."

"Nikki, we can't."

"Charles…We can though. You can. I know you want to. And I want you to know it's what I want too. I know that you think it's, wrong. But it's not. Not really," I said.

"Nikki, you're my stepdaughter."

"Charles, I'm a consenting adult," I said softly. "And I'm allowed to want other consenting adults."

He breathed a little move heavily, and then he reached for my chin. With one hand.

"You are, aren't you?" he admitted.

Then he slowly leaned in, and gently pulled my chin toward him.

The motion was so slow that I had time to feel my heart rate accelerate and my breath grow more heavy, and my pussy more wet before the moment out lips touched.

Then we kissed, and it was like every part of my body ignited, because not only was I getting wet in my panties, but my eyes were getting wet too. There was something emotionally rewarding about this too. Like I'd really wanted to kiss his lips for a long time but didn't know it.

Then both of Charles's hands were cupping my face and he was gently stroking my hair with his fingers while stroking my cheeks with his thumbs.

Then after we'd kissed for about a minute or two, he put his forehead to mine.

"You're sure this is what you want?" he said.

"Charles," I whispered. "I've been dreaming about you. I can't stop thinking about you. This is what I want. Please Charles will you take me to my room and play with me?"

"Oh god," he said. "Nikki, I'm your stepdad."

"Oh god," I said. "I know. I shouldn't have said it like that. What I meant was I want you to take me to my room, lock the door and dominate me. And fuck me. I want you. Not you the stepdad. You the kinky, sexy man."

I pressed my whole body up against his, and kissed him. His cock was so hard against my crotch, it seemed to threaten to rip his pants open to get into me.

"Nikki, this is a bad idea," he said.

"Please," I said. "Please, Charles. I know you want it too. I won't tell mom. I won't tell anyone. But I need you. I think I always have. And I think you need someone like me right now."

Then he looked like he was going to cry. Had I said something to upset him? Was I scaring him? Was he really convinced this was so wrong?

"Okay," he whispered.

Then he scooped me up in his strong arms and carried me up the stairs.

 

Chapter Five

When we got to my room, he put me down on the bed carefully. Then he locked the door, and then turned to me.

"You can't tell your mom about this," he said. "Or anyone else for that matter. Understand?"

"Of course," I said. "But why? It's not illegal. I'm eighteen. We're not related. It's not like either of us could go to jail…"

"It'll kill her," he said. "Your mom. It'll kill her."

My heart filled with remorse. If he was trying a tactic that would make me back out of this, then this was the best tactic to use. My mom and I didn't always see eye to eye, but I would never want to do something that would really hurt her. I love my mother. So much. We both do.

"All right, Charles," I said. "My lips are sealed. Consider me as good as gagged."

I bit my lip and looked up at him, wondering if he'd take the hint.

"You want to be gagged?"

"Do you want me gagged?" I asked demurely.

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I think I do, yes," he said.

He climbed onto the bed and caressed my cheek again.

I purred at the feel of his soft touch.

"You're really sure this is what you want?" he said softly.

"Yes," I whispered.

He took the gag and unbuckled it, and then brought it up to my mouth.

"Wait," I said.

"Yes?"

"We need a signal," I said. "Just like, if you're hurting me a little too much. I don't really know what my limits are."

He smiled warmly.

"I don't want to hurt you this time. We'll need to build to that. For now I think we should just keep it relatively simple and limit it to bondage and sex. If that's all right with you?"

"That's perfectly all right with me, actually," I said, a little relieved. I just wanted to feel his hands on me and his cock inside me.

Then he put the ball in my mouth, and then tightened the strap behind my head.

"There," he said.

I blinked at him demurely.

He smiled.

"You're so beautiful, Nikki."

I smiled, such as I could through the gag.

Then Charles took off his shirt. For a thirty-five year old, I really had to hand it to Charles, he was pretty ripped. He could have been an athlete in his twenties. Then his pants came off and…oh my! His cock was so big! And it was standing so erect right now. How did my mom not want this magnificent specimen of a man inside her all the time? Charles was fucking gorgeous!

Then he climbed onto the bed next to me. I lay on my back, unsure of what he wanted me to do, only knowing that he wanted me, and being so wet for him myself.

He tugged gently at the nipple chain.

"Mmm," I moaned, making a slightly pained face.

You promised you wouldn't hurt me, I thought. But he wasn't really hurting me. Not really. It was a just a little tease.

He smiled.

Then he reached for the nipple clamp on my left nipple, and then took it off. My nipple hurt just a little as the blood went flowing back in, and then he gently massaged it with his fingers. It felt so, so good…then he did the same with the other nipple, removing the clamp and then massaging it gently.

Then he slowly bent down and sucked on my nipples, alternating every half a minute or so between each. He did it so gently…and so sensually. He was being so sweet and gentle with me, which wasn't what I'd exactly been expecting. But then again, he and I had a history together I knew he couldn't just forget. He wanted to be extra careful with me this first time I realized, and that was okay. But I wanted him to know that he really could be rough with me. If he wanted to.

Then, slowly his fingers traced down my belly, down to my panties, and then slipped into the little hole on the crotch. The moment he touched the lips of my pussy, I gasped out onto the gag.

"Jesus your pussy is wet," he said, almost astonished.

"Mmm-hmm," I said with a nod.

Of course I'm wet. You're gorgeous, and your fingers and lips feel so nice on me.

He gently slipped his fingers deeper inside me, and traced around me in there. It felt wonderful. And then gently, in a steady rhythm, he began stroking his fingers up and down the front, just by my clit.

I gasped again when he found the nub of my clit.

"I found the sweet spot, did I?"

"Mmm-hmm," he said with a nod. Helplessly, I gazed into his gorgeous blue eyes, which seemed to almost dance in the dim light of my room.

He paid extra special attention to my clit, stroking it in a circular motion, while he put his head close to mine, and stared deeply into my eyes, while his breath fell heavy and warm on my face.

"So beautiful," he said.

And then I felt the first signs of an orgasm coming. Oh god, it was all just too much. He was being so sweet and gentle, and he was so beautiful, and the cuffs digging into my wrists and the gag in my mouth…They all made me feel so…perversely cherished.

I began to whimper and moan as the orgasm overtook my whole body.

"Don't tell me you're coming already," he said with a look of satisfaction.

"Yef," I moaned, nodding.

I dug my fingers into the bed below me. I gasped for air through the gag and my nose heavily as I came convulsively on the bed, under Charles's expert touch.

He gradually slowed his touch, helping ease me down from the orgasm gradually. I felt drunk as I gazed back at him.

"Are you still on the pill?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," I said with a nod.

"Good," he said.

He ran a hand gently through my hair.

"I'd like fuck you now. Are you ready?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmm," I said with a nod.

He got on top of me and gently began to tease the outside of my pussy with his cock. Then he began to push in for the first time. Then out a little, and then in a little more, gradually going deeper and deeper until he was all the way in.

"Oh…god…your pussy is so tight and so wet," he said. "You feel so good."

"Mmm," I purred, gazing into his loving eyes.

You feel pretty fucking good yourself.

He fucked me gently at first, taking it slow. Letting out a gasp after every long thrust. At some point I began gasping for air too, wondering if it would keep feeling this good. If it did, I thought I might pass out.

He began pumping harder into me, then harder still.

Finally, when I think he may have been very close to coming, he pulled the gag out of my mouth. Then he kissed me on the lips furiously.

"Oh god, Charles," I gasped.

He smiled at me and kept fucking harder and harder.

"I love you, Nikki," he said, and then began to thrust into me violently.

"I love you too, Charles," I moaned.

Then I felt his hot load squirt into me as he came hard, grunting and growling, and suddenly shaking me violently and primally. I also came, very hard this time, so hard in fact that I started to scream. I felt like I'd just been doused in pleasure gasoline, and that Charles had just lit on fire. Every inch of me felt so fucking good!

Charles, began to slow his pumps as we both came down from the orgasm, and kissed me again until we finished.

Finally, the kiss ended, and Charles and I took a few breaths before he finally pulled out of me, then law beside me.

We lay side by side for awhile, catching out breaths, letting the room stop spinning.

Finally, Charles turned to me, and gently pulled my face to face his with my chin.

"So how was that?" he asked.

"So fucking good. So, so fucking good," I said, still panting.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," he said, still panting too.

"You said you loved me," I said, biting my lip. "Is that really true?"

"I've always loved you Nikki. You know that."

"I mean like this, though."

"No. This is new. But the love? That's always been there."

"I feel the same way about you," I said.

Then I started to worry about the future.

"We can do this again, right?" I said. "Like this isn't just a one time thing?"

"Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "We can do this again. Just, remember…"

"I know," I said. "Don't tell mom."

"Good girl," he smiled.

Then he kissed me one last time, before getting up to retrieve the key.

Then he turned me on my side and unlocked my wrists.

Then he began to get dressed.

"Do you have to go yet?" I said.

"Sorry," he said. "I do. I have another shoot this afternoon. But don't worry. We always know where to find each other later. We do live together after all."

"That we do," I said with a smile.

Then he left and I lay in bed for awhile marveling at the new level our relationship had just reached. We would have to keep it a secret, though I wanted to tell the world. I loved Charles so much, and I couldn't wait to see more of his darker side, and for him to begin training me to be his sub like he'd suggested. But now I was sleepy again, so for now, a girl can dream…

Maybe if I'm lucky I'll have a dream about it right now!

Then I drifted off to sleep…

 

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